


I'll Let My Stories Be Whispered When I'm Gone

by thucydides_groupie



Series: Choose Your Own Adventure [1]
Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Historical Accuracy, Historical Inaccuracy, Implied Sexual Content, Slow Burn, a camp nanowrimo project that went too far, literally no one asked for this, my quarantine coping mechanism, please pardon the glaring typos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:46:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 43
Words: 195,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25066384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thucydides_groupie/pseuds/thucydides_groupie
Summary: How the series would’ve been different if Selah had an older sister.
Relationships: Benjamin Tallmadge/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Choose Your Own Adventure [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1903081
Comments: 83
Kudos: 45





	1. 1x01

**October 1776 - Setauket, Long Island**

"Mr. Strong! Four ales, please!"

Molly Strong turned her head slightly to glance at the soldiers. They were all clothed in their bright red coats, and they filled nearly every chair in the tavern. She headed over to the bar to collect the fresh mugs filled to the brim with ale. Her younger brother, Selah Strong, looked right passed her. He was looking towards the entrance. She followed his gaze and was surprised to see their friend Abraham Woodhull making his way over to them. Abraham never visited the tavern.

Molly quickly delivered the drinks to the right table and began to walk back to the men. By the time she came back to the bar, the men were already in the midst of a conversation.

"What's this?" Selah asked. He was referring to a small pouch Abraham had placed on the bar.

"I said I would repay my debt." Abraham explained.

"We're not even halfway through the season."

"This is only half of what I owe. The harvest isn't coming in as I hoped."

Selah scoffed and gave Molly a knowing look. She knew that meant she was free to eavesdrop. So Molly made herself busy cleaning out the mugs at the one end of the bar.

"Loopers or maggots?"

Molly internally cringed. If maggots had gotten into Abraham's cabbage crop again, there was no way he could financially recover from this. He was already borrowing money from her brother. The Strongs and the Woodhulls had known each other for generations. But if Abraham's luck with farming continued, Molly was positive her brother's generosity would quickly end.

"I just need more time, Selah," Abraham pleaded, quietly, "and then next season, I swear…"

"Next season? Of course, why not? Perhaps by then you just pay me back with my own cauliflower."

All three of them shifted their attention when Selah's wife, Anna, descended the staircase.

"Abraham." She greeted, the surprise evident in her tone, "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"Abe and I were just discussing maggots." Selah explained nonchalantly.

Anna's eyebrows knitted together. "Maggots?"

"Mrs. Strong, here, here!" It was one of the tables across the room.

"I hear they've been dethroned as Setauket's reigning pests." Anna mumbled under her breath.

Molly looked over her shoulder at one of the tables. It was no secret that several of the soldiers enjoyed flirting with Anna Strong. Anna was beautiful, it was true, but the reality was, most of the men wanted to be in Selah's good graces.

Although the redcoats drank excessively, most of the time, they didn't pay with coin. Since they were stationed in the colonies, and since there was a war going on, most payments were made with military checks given to Selah. The officers promised that King George would provide compensation for loyalists once they won the war. However, it didn't prevent Selah, Anna, and Molly from feeling animosity towards the men stationed in their small town. All they knew was that none of them would be fully compensated for a long time.

"Ahem. Your rooms are ready, gentlemen." Anna informed the table, pleasantly.

That was the other thing. Locals were expected to provide house and board for all the soldiers stationed in their towns or cities. Currently Selah's estate, Strong Manor, as well as the entire second floor of Strong Tavern were filled will redcoats.

Abraham suddenly felt out of place. "Well, I should be off, so..."

"No, now, wait." Anna protested. "We hardly see you anymore. How is Mary and Thomas?"

Mary Woodhull, Abraham's wife, and Thomas Woodhull, their one-year old son.

"They're both well. I really should..." Abraham made a motion that he intended to go.

"You should come for dinner at our house. The three of you." Anna insisted.

Molly rolled her eyes and turned around to collect the empty mugs from the tables nearby. They weren't children anymore; Abraham was clearly uncomfortable with the prospect. Selah picked up on it as well.

"Anna." He warned.

"I fear that wouldn't feel right. I owe your husband a debt. I would be shamed for you to cook for us while I'm in arrears." Abraham tried to explain.

Anna looked between the two men. "I didn't know about this."

And there it was.

Molly jumped as John Robeson rose to his feet and climbed onto one of the chairs.

"Bloody news! Bloody news!" he announced obnoxiously. Although Robeson was a local fisherman, he was spent every cent he had on alcohol. The Strongs knew him well. They also knew that when he got tipsy, he became extremely vocal about his Tory – those who supported the British – policies.

"'Where are the rebels now?'" Robeson read from a recent newspaper. "'To the brave Patriot commander on the eve of his retreat... Pardon, his _charge_ into northern New Jersey."

Robeson and the redcoats began to laugh. The article was mocking the Continental Army's most recent defeat.

He continued, "Pulled back from the line, a most propitious sign, for Mrs. Washington, that sow. Alas, before his return, dear Georgie must discern in what place he should sheathe his saber… the joke of it all is that his scabbard calls for any puff's sword he can stow.'"

As the laughter continued, the volume rose in the tavern, and the men were only getting rowdier.

"Go upstairs." Selah ordered. He was addressing Anna, not Molly.

Molly knew what he was going to do, and she was glad he was going to do it.

"Selah, don't." Anna warned.

Selah stepped into the center of the room.

"Get out, Robeson." Selah demanded.

This wasn't unusual. When Robeson became too loud, Selah had asked him to leave on many occasions.

"I'm sorry, did I offend your sensitive liberal puff cake?" Robeson challenged.

Molly held her breath. He may be a drunk, but Robeson never acted like this. What if the Strongs were known for their Whig – those who support the Continental Army – leanings? They might be sympathetic, but they had proven loyal to the British Crown time and time again.

"You offended my wife." Selah lied. "Now, leave."

"Come off it, man. We're celebrating your king's victory in New York." One of the redcoats replied.

Robeson wouldn't let it go though. He continued, "Though we understand how that might upset a certain delegate to the Provincial Congress."

Robeson had gotten off of the chair, but he still clutched his mug in his hand. He and Selah were nose-to-nose.

"Drunk!" Selah spat.

"Whig!"

Selah gave him a shove and Robeson's mug went flying. The ale landed with a splash onto the front of Captain Joyce's uniform. Captain Joyce's expression changed from passive to enraged in an instant.

"You stupid-" he began, getting cut off as he jumped to his feet and punched Selah in the stomach.

Molly gasped as Selah collapsed to the ground. Captain Joyce suddenly swore. As he had jumped to his feet, he had sliced open the palm of his hand on the knife beside his plate.

"Did he just hit Captain Joyce?" a soldier asked.

Obviously, the answer was no. But it didn't seem to matter because Joyce drew his sword and was barreling towards Selah. Before Molly could ever think of what to do, Abraham had jumped into the mess.

"Let me help you. Let me get that for you." Abraham offered. He was trying to help Captain Joyce out of his stained coat. He was trying to distract him from his rage.

"Out of my way." Joyce tried to shove his away.

"Here, it's fine. Take your coat off. There you are, just..."

There was the faint sound of fabric ripping. Another soldier was on his feet. His name was Lieutenant Simcoe, and he had his gun pressed to the back of Abraham's head. Everyone froze.

"Release the captain, please." He ordered.

Abraham raised his hands in surrender. "Of course." He began to back away from Joyce.

Despite all that had happened, Captain Joyce was no calmer than before. He turned on his heels and punches Abraham in the stomach this time. As Abe collapsed on the ground, other soldiers jumped to their feet and began kicking and beating Abe and Selah.

Molly and Anna both rushed forward to stop them, but soldiers held them back.

Molly shouted until her throat hurt.

"Selah!"

* * *

Molly could kill Robeson she was so angry. After a few minutes, the soldiers had finished beating Selah and Abraham. But they didn't leave it at that. They placed them both under arrest for assaulting an officer. It was completely idiotic.

Captain Joyce ordered that the men be thrown into a cellar (seeing as there was no jail in town) until they could face trial. He then went back to the tavern to finish his drink.

The soldiers refused to let Anna or Molly see Abraham and Selah. Back at the tavern, the two women met in the cellar. Anna was crying so hard that Molly wasn't sure if she'd ever stop.

"Anna," Molly said, "Anna." She was holding her sister-in-law by the shoulders, trying to calm her down. She was upset too, but nothing was definitive yet. Anna sniffled and managed to silence her sobs for a moment.

"Listen to me, Annie, I'm going to make an appeal to the Major. What I want you to do is stay here. Let the men finish their drinks, then close the tavern early for the evening." Molly instructed. "Listen to me, we are not going to let them take Selah without a fight."

Anna nodded eagerly.

"You're right, you're right." She wiped her eyes. "Go, I can manage here."

Molly hurried back up to the main floor and began to make the short hike to the local church.

When the redcoats were stationed in Setauket, Long Island, one of their first decrees had been that their commanding officer needed a headquarters. Rather than set up in one of the late estates (as everyone expected), the redcoats had decided to commandeer the local church. There hadn't been a Sunday service in over a year. On Sunday, interested individuals were welcome to visit the Reverend at his home. So that was where Molly was going now. She was going to the church to seek an audience with the commanding officer in Setauket: Major Edmund Hewlett.

The soldiers immediately stopped her when she reached the entrance.

"I demand an audience with the Major."

* * *

The soldiers told her that the major could not see her for several hours. She told them that she would wait. And wait she did. The church was positioned on a hill and all around the church was the town graveyard. She spent the time visiting the graves of her deceased neighbors and her late parents.

She stood on that hill and watched men come and go. She saw Captain Joyce go into the church. She saw him leave. She watched the local Magistrate Richard Woodhull (Abraham's father) go into the church and then leave. Finally, a soldier came to inform her that the major would see her.

She stormed into the church.

"Major –" She didn't even get a chance to say anything because the major cut her off.

"Hello, Ms. Strong. You will be happy to hear that I have dismissed Captain Joyce from further military service. As for your brother, I'm sorry, there's nothing I can do. This is a legal matter now. Judge Woodhull is reviewing your brother's case as we speak."

Molly was speechless. Now she knew why they had made her wait. It was so they could clean up their mess and condemn her brother before she could try to defend him.

"That is all, you are dismissed. Please give me apologies to Mrs. Strong as well."

The major turned away from her once more. He didn't appear to be affected at all by what he had just told her. How could he be so passive? Molly refused to leave.

"Major Hewlett." She began again.

He glanced up at her. He looked annoyed now.

"Yes, goodbye Ms. Strong."

"How can you-" The second she said a word of protest, the major interrupted her once more.

"Ensign, please escort Ms. Strong out of the building!"

And that was what happened. The soldier walked her out of the church and made sure she walked down the hill. Molly looked back at the church as she walked away.

She didn't care if she was considered a British citizen. She was not fond of the soldiers before, but now she hated them. She hated the British.

* * *

Molly went looking for Anna at the tavern, but she found that her sister-in-law had listened to her after all. Anna had closed the tavern for the night and went home. Molly didn't blame her. She wished she could go home too. But she knew she couldn't. Not yet. So she sat in the empty tavern and she waited until nightfall.

It rained that night. A couple hours after it got dark, she ventured out of the tavern and made her way back to the hill where the church was. She had a good idea of where Selah and Abraham were, and she was adamant about speaking with them.

She found Selah in the stockade, just like she thought. The redcoats set up the stocks near the bottom of the hill. She was surprised not to see any sign of Abraham though.

"Selah?"

He jumped at the sound of her voice, but he was still conscious.

"Is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me." She crouched down so he could see her face. He was shivering in the rain and he had a black eye. The soldiers obviously hadn't stopped the beatings after they dragged him out of the tavern.

"Where's Anna?"

"She's distraught. She's at the house, but we know we'll have more time to see you before anything's decided."

He closed his eyes and was quiet for a moment.

"Moll, listen to me," Selah said through chattering teeth, "Abe already came to see me. They've granted him a pardon."

Molly suddenly felt nauseous. Had it already been decided? So quickly?

"If I don't plead guilty, they're going to hang me. But if I do plead, they're going to send me to _the Jersey_."

"A prison ship?" Molly asked in disbelief. Although she made no sound, she was crying now. A prison ship was not a merciful punishment. Although the required imprisonment time was short, the conditions alone made it a near death sentence.

"What are we going to do?" she asked.

"I've already asked Abe if he'll look after both of you. I know you can look after yourself, but I'm sure they'll make things especially hard for Anna. Take care of her for me. She'll be all alone to run our house and the tavern. You take care of Anna while I'm gone."

"I will, you know I will."

"I love you."

"I love you, and we'll see you soon."

She kissed him on the cheek and departed before any soldiers had the chance to catch her.

* * *

She walked home that night. Although it was cold and rainy, and although the walk was long, Molly didn't care. She wanted to be miserable, because she knew her little brother was going to be stuck out there in the stocks all night long.

When she arrived at Strong Manor, she made her way up the stairs and to her room. She had been living with Selah since their parents died over five years ago. Even when Selah married Anna, they both asked her if she would live with them. Although Selah was the youngest and the only Strong son (meaning he got all their family's property and wealth), he had always been good to his sister.

He had always been a good brother to her, and she knew he was a good husband to Anna. And that's why, that night, she cried harder than she had ever cried before.

* * *

Despite her late night, Molly arose early the next morning. As she was leaving for the tavern, she found Anna sitting on the front steps of the house. Molly had always loved her family's estate. They could see the ocean from their front porch.

"He's gone. They took him away this morning." Anna said.

Molly could tell she was still in shock.

"They brought him here to say goodbye. He asked me not to wake you. So, I didn't." Anna looked up at her husband's sister.

"Is it true? Are they really sending him to _the Jersey_?"

Molly nodded faintly, "Aye."

Anna turned away. Molly could tell that she was holding back tears.

"Don't worry about coming to the tavern today. I can manage. I want you to stay here. Get some rest." She put a hand on Anna's shoulder. "Hey, we're going to be okay."

Anna nodded, but she would not look her sister-in-law in the eye. And with that, Molly began to her walk into town.

* * *

"Captain Joyce is dead."

That was how she was greeted when she arrived at the tavern. _Good_ , Molly thought. She was too bitter to think anything else. She was greeted by Lieutenant Simcoe, the man who had held his pistol to Abraham's head. Molly had never been fond of him before, but now she especially didn't like him. He gave off a strange energy. His tone was always calm, but he somehow always managed to sound ingenuine and mocking at the same time. When she didn't verbally respond, Simcoe continued.

"His body was found this morning in a field with his throat slit. You haven't heard?"

Molly eyed him wearily. He wasn't telling her this to make small talk. There was a reason he was waiting for her at the tavern this early.

"No. I only just got into town now." She replied calmly.

No matter how bitter she might feel, she was not a fool. She knew the importance of controlling and hiding her true emotions. Especially after what had happened yesterday.

"Did you come here for a morning drink, Lieutenant?" she asked, beginning to unlock the front door.

"Captain." He corrected.

She paused as she digested that information.

"I purchased Captain Joyce's commission in the wake of his death." He explained.

_Of course, you did._

"Oh," she said, turning towards him, "well, then I suppose congratulations are in order… Despite the circumstances." She added.

Simcoe was eyeing her, and it was beginning to make Molly feel uncomfortable. She wanted nothing more than to get into the tavern and get some distance from him.

"Have you seen Mrs. Strong? Or Abraham Woodhull?"

"What? Um, Anna's at Strong Manor, and I haven't seen Abe since yesterday." A beat. "Why are you asking me this?"

"An officer in His Majesty's Army is dead following an altercation with your brother and with Mr. Woodhull. Now, your brother has been shipped off to prison, Mr. Woodhull is nowhere to be found, and I have not yet confirmed the location of your sister-in-law."

Molly felt nauseous. He was trying to identify her as a suspect in Captain Joyce's death.

"If you're trying to accuse me of something, then do it, _Captain_." She said mockingly. "If not, then please leave me be. I'm just trying to make a living."

She swung the tavern door open and closed it abruptly behind her, and she locked Captain Simcoe outside. Her offer for the morning drink no longer stood.

She couldn't help wondering though, where was Abe?

* * *

Abraham Woodhull was located the next day. Molly managed to get all the details related to his disappearance and reappearance from the locals and soldiers who visited the tavern throughout the day.

Apparently, Abe had taken what he could salvage of his cabbage crop and sailed in a rowboat across the strait. He sold it on the London Trade – i.e. black market. On his way back to Setauket, he was overtaken by a Continental brig sloop. The sailors robbed him of his payment from the London Trade, beat him, and threw his overboard. He managed to make it to shore. When he found his way back to town, he was arrested by the redcoats because he was suspected of murdering Captain Joyce.

Molly never would've expected Abe to do something like that the same day he was pardoned from assaulting an English officer. It didn't make much sense to her, but at the same time, she knew Abe was probably thinking about the debt he owed to Selah. So, although Abe had lost everything he had earned on the London Trade, in Molly's eyes, his debt was as good as repaid.

* * *

That evening, when Molly returned to Strong Manor, she found herself face-to-face will Captain Simcoe in the foyer.

"Good evening, Ms. Strong." He said. The fake pleasantness in his voice was as present as ever.

She nodded, "Captain."

Her heart and mind were racing. What was he doing here? Was he here to arrest her? Was it because she was a bit mouthy this morning at the tavern?

"Because of my promotion, I am now being housed here, at your brother's lovely home." Simcoe explained, noticing her confusion.

"Oh." Molly responded, letting out an internal sigh of relief.

He gave her a fake smile, "Yes. _Oh_."

* * *

The next couple of days passed agonizingly slowly. Although Major Hewlett didn't seem to care, Captain Simcoe was spending all his energy in trying to identify Captain Joyce's killer. Molly wished he'd leave her alone. Since moving into Strong Manor, she found herself bumping into him constantly. Before three days ago, she hardly knew his name.

One evening, she closed the tavern early. When she arrived home, she was working with Anna and Anna's slave Abigail to fold the laundry that had been dried on the clothesline. As they worked, Anna blurted, "Do you know Captain Simcoe?"

"You mean the man who tried to blow Abe's brains out?

That comment made Anna pause, "Yes."

"What of him?"

"Well, it's-" Anna stopped.

Both Abigail and Molly stopped as well.

"What is it?" Molly asked.

"You agree, you both agree," she said turning to Abigail, "that that man is frightening?"

Molly and Abigail agreed.

"He-" Anna let out a heavy sigh. "I hear him outside my door at night. And he's been in my room when I haven't, I'm certain of it."

Molly bit the inside of her cheek. Nothing like this had ever happened when Selah was here. Then again, none of the redcoats had ever behaved like Mr. Simcoe. To be honest, this type of thing didn't surprise her. For being so uptight, Captain Simcoe did exhibit flirtatious behavior with most women. It was a strange phenomenon, but Molly was not blind to it.

"What do you think I should do?" Anna asked hesitantly.

Abigail said nothing, she and Anna both looked at Molly for a solution. After a moment, Molly continued folding the laundry as if nothing was the matter,

" _You_ are going to do nothing. What I am going to do, is I am going to move into your room." A beat. "I don't think anyone would question that decision. Sisters share rooms frequently. Besides, it only makes sense. After all, we don't have a real man in the house anymore."

Abigail giggled at the comment, and that was that. They talked about the issue no more.

* * *

More days passed. Molly made her move into Anna's bedroom very indiscreetly. Anna informed her that she didn't believe Captain Simcoe was continuing to stalk her.

The days only became stranger the week after Selah was taken away. Molly didn't initially notice it. One morning, as she was leaving for the tavern, Abigail's son Cicero made the comment, "What's she doing?"

Molly followed his gaze and the two of them watched Anna as she hung up laundry on the clothesline. It was strange. Anna never did laundry that early in the morning. What was even more bizarre was that Anna hung a black petticoat in the middle of the line. But none of them had worn a black petticoat recently.

After Captain Simcoe seemed to stop his bizarre behavior, he made the announcement that he had been assigned to lead a military mission in Connecticut. He would be gone for several days. Molly was glad to see him off.

Then there was the thing with Abraham. She had not spoken to Abe once since what had happened at the tavern. Finally, one day, she got the chance to speak to his wife, Mary. Mary agreed that the London Trade business had been strange. Molly didn't bring up the debt owed to her brother. She doubted Abe had been vocal about that.

Molly and Mary got along well, but they rarely had a chance to visit with one another. The occasion for their reacquaintance was very odd, however. Apparently, to affirm his position as a loyalist of the British Crown, Abe agreed to publicly swear fealty to the king.

And so, he did. Exactly a week after Selah was taken, Abe stood in the center of town, and all the locals and soldiers who could witness it, did. Judge Woodhull had his son place a hand on a Bible, and Abe said these words, "I, Abraham Woodhull, do sincerely and faithfully promise and swear that I will bear true allegiance to His Majesty, King George III. And that, with heart and hands, life and goods will maintain and defend His Majesty's government and the laws of the province of New York against all traitorous conspiracies and attempts that shall be made against his person, crown, or dignity. And I will do my utmost endeavor and make known to His Majesty and his successors all treasons and traitorous conspiracies which I shall know to be against, or any of them. God save the King!"

"God save the King." The soldiers and locals parroted. All except Molly who very much did not give a damn about the king's welfare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this back in April, not expecting anything to come of it. But here I am, in July, now attempting to rewrite the entire series 👀 (It seemed very fitting to publish this on the 4th of July, so Happy 4th!)
> 
> Honestly, the only reason I made Molly was so someone could finally defend Selah. Honestly, Selah deserved so much better.
> 
> This fanfic is by no means perfect. As you can tell, I am attempting to sprinkle in hints of historical accuracy, but let's be honest: This fanfic is so historically inaccurate it hurts.


	2. 1x02

“Did you hear the news?”

“Captain Simcoe was ambushed by the rebels?”

“No!”

“Where were they?

“Connecticut.”

“What were they doing there?”

“They heard word there was a rebel safehouse there. The Captain was sent to ambush them, but when he got there…”

“There were survivors though, right?”

“No. Every man found was dead. But a couple are still missing.”

“Yeah, I heard that Captain Simcoe is missing.

_Good_ , Molly thought. 

“Did you hear the news?” Anna asked slyly later that day. She stood behind the bar, cleaning mugs.

“I believe I did.” Molly admitted. “Concerning out favorite houseguest?”

Anna nodded, and Molly could see the satisfaction on her face. She leaned in to whisper something only Anna could hear.

“Remember, he’s missing. They’ve not found a body yet.”

“Yet.” Anna whispered back.

Molly had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep her grin at bay.

The news arrived two days after Abraham’s display in the center of town. When Molly had first heard the news, she thanked God repeatedly for the rest of the day. In her mind, Captain Joyce had been punished for destroying Selah’s life, and now Captain Simcoe appeared to be punished for his threatening behavior.

Major Hewlett was not keen on investigating Joyce’s death any further, so Molly no longer feared being suspected in Captain Joyce’s death. Yes, his death had been suspicious. But she hadn’t been involved, but after what happened with Selah, she was sure to be on her guard. She was walking on eggshells. Everywhere she went and everything she said could be used against her, and she would not give anyone the satisfaction of framing her for the death.

She was also grateful for the holiday coming up: Bonfire Night, when they celebrated the anniversary of Guy Fawkes’ failed plot. (In 1605, Guy Fawkes was a British martyr who attempted to blow up the British Parliament – due to religious disagreements.) No matter how bizarre the holiday had always seemed to her, it had always been one of Selah’s favorites. Since they were children, Selah had always gotten Molly involved in the festivities, cheering and dancing as they burned an effigy of Guy Fawkes in the center of town. The celebration would begin at sundown tomorrow.

As the soldiers in the tavern began to clear out, Molly left Anna at the bar and she began to trek up the hill to the church.

* * *

“Hello, Ms. Strong, what can I do for you?” Major Hewlett greeted her.

She was not forced to wait like before. This time, she was invited into the church almost immediately.

“Major, I was hoping you might tell me what address I may out on this letter.” She presented a letter she had had folded in the pocket of the skirts. She placed it on Hewlett’s desk. There was one written by her and one written by Anna. “It’s a letter to Selah.”

Hewlett eyed the letter for a moment, and then glanced back at Molly.

“I regret to inform you that I must withhold that information. The Jersey is not accepting post for prisoners.”

Molly’s heart sank. She had never written to anyone imprisoned before, but she had assumed that they would at least allow them to receive mail.

“Does _the Jersey_ _ever_ accept mail for prisoners?”

Hewlett’s expression saddened. Although his tone was icy, his face showed sympathy.

“I’m afraid not, ma’am. The captain of _the Jersey_ is very adamant “

Molly nodded, trying to hide her disappointment. Theories were already forming in her mind. She had a good idea who might be influencing this decision.

“Oh, it’s alright, Major. I just… I didn’t know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, Major. Have a nice evening.”

“You too, Ms. Strong.”

As she made her way down the hill and back to the tavern, she found herself walking alongside Ensign Thomas Baker, who was also making his way into town. He was the soldier being housed at Abraham and Mary’s house. She had spoken to him a couple of times, but he rarely frequented the tavern.

“Good evening, Ms. Strong.” He greeted.

“Ensign.” She nodded.

His smile was warm, and it made her hate the redcoats a little less. Not all of them were men like Captain Joyce or Captain Simcoe.

“Will you be attending the bonfire tomorrow night?” he asked her.

She bit her lip to hide her smile. The truth was, she found Ensign Baker very attractive.

“I’ll be in the tavern for most of the celebrations, but yes. I’m hoping I can sneak out to watch the burning.” A beat. “You should stop by the tavern and say hello. God knows that my brother ordered enough ale for the celebrations.”

And that was the truth. Before being arrested, Selah did most of his ordering weeks in advance for celebrations. Molly knew that well. Although Anna was in charge of the books, Molly often helped with the inventory.

Ensign Baker chuckled, “I’ll remember that.”

They slowed their pace when they reached the bottom of the hill.

“Good night, Mr. Baker.”

“Good night, Ms. Strong.”

And they parted ways.

As soon as Molly returned to the tavern, she found Anna.

“Can you close up? I’m heading out on an errand.”

“Of course!”

Molly turned to exit the tavern once more. Anna grabbed her by the forearm.

“Where are you going?”

“To see Judge Woodhull.”

* * *

Molly had a good reason for visiting Judge Woodhull. It was a close kept secret that Judge Richard Woodhull had a vendetta against the Strong family. There were a variety of reasons that contributed to it. However, the most obvious one involved Abraham and Anna.

Originally, Abe and Anna were engaged. They had been secretly engaged, but Judge Woodhull knew. He was not fond of Anna even back then. Like the Strongs, Anna’s family also had sympathies towards the Whigs. Heck, Molly knew that Abe still have sympathies towards the Whigs and the rebels. He may have sworn fealty to King George, but she had known him for a long time.

It didn’t matter that Abraham had been acting as a loyalist in order to keep peace with his father and protect Mary and Thomas. Judge Woodhull still held the grudge against Anna for what could have been. As soon as she wed Selah, it became clear that the Judge would not forget the past.

Molly could’ve taken a carriage to the Judge’s estate, Whitehall. Any of her neighbors or any of the soldiers would have gladly given her a ride. But she didn’t want that. She wanted to walk and be trapped in her thoughts. At the moment, that was the only thing keeping her anger at bay.

It was after dark by time Molly arrived at Whitehall. She walked up the steps of the front porch and one of the soldiers outside ushered her in. Whitehall was guarded just as heavily as the church because Major Hewlett was being housed there. The soldier led her into the Judge’s study. Judge Woodhull sat at his desk, scribbling away in a ledger book. He did not say a word until the redcoat had left.

“Ms. Strong. I’m surprised to see you here at this time of night.” He did not bother looking up from his work. “How may I assist you?”

“Good evening, Mr. Woodhull.” She did not address him by his title. In her mind, he was her friend’s father first, not a Magistrate. “I have come to inquire as to why Anna and I are not allowed to write to Selah.”

The Judge removed his glasses from the bridge of his nose and turned to look at the young woman.

“Have you taken this matter up with Major Hewlett?”

“Yes. He told me that the captain of the Jersey is not allowing families to correspond with the prisoners. I believe that to be a lie.”

The Judge’s expression remained passive yet annoyed too. He eyed her for a moment. That’s when he realized that she would not leave without an answer.

“Why come to me?” he asked.

“I expect an explanation, sir.”

“Ms. Strong, I believe you are aware that both you and your sister-in-law are still suspects in an ongoing investigation?”

Molly laughed aloud.

“You can’t be serious?”

Judge Woodhull’s voice remained calm, but there was an underlying hatred in his words. “After your brother proved himself so willing to assault an officer in His Majesty’s Army, I am not yet satisfied that you and Mrs. Strong do not have the same willingness.”

Molly shook her head, “You know that is a bunch of bullshit –”

“Mind your tongue, Ms. Strong.” the Judge hissed.

“You know, as well as the rest of the town, that _your_ son should be on that ship with Selah. Do not forget that it was _your_ son who rushed to my brother’s defense.”

Judge Woodhull turned away from her once more, “That will be enough, Ms. Strong.”

“And do not forget that Abraham is as much a suspect as Anna and I.” she spat.

“Have a good night.”

She stood there for a moment, allowing herself to fully digest what this investigation meant for her and for Anna. Then she left. She left Whitehall without saying another word.

Outside, one of the soldiers offered to give her a ride back to Strong Manor. She politely refused and resumed her solitary walk. She walked and she walked and she walked. She knew it was nearly midnight. Anna would be looking for her. But, in that moment, she didn’t care.

She was nearly to the manor when a carriage full of redcoats rushed past her. Several soldiers followed the carriage on foot. She managed to get one of the men to stop.

“What’s happening?”

“There’s been a fire at the Woodhulls’ farm!” the man said, already quickening his pace.

“Abraham Woodhull?”

“Yes, ma’am!” the soldier called over his shoulder.

Suddenly, Molly felt very cold, and she stood there in the center of the road, shivering. 

* * *

Anna could’ve killed Molly when she finally returned to Strong Manor.

“We’ve been worried sick! Jordan has been searching the property for hours.” Anna hissed.

Molly had found her standing on the porch with a lantern when she finally arrived. Jordan was one of the slaves.

“I’m sorry. I just… I lost track of time.”

“Bullshit!”

Molly looked over her shoulder and back towards the ocean.

“Come on, get to bed. I’ll get word to Jordan.”

Anna ushered her sister-in-law inside. She would not hear about the details of Molly’s late night until the next day, when Molly’s story was abruptly overshadowed by the news that Abraham Woodhull’s shed had been torched during the night.

* * *

News traveled quickly the next day. The story went that two unknown men, on horses torched Abraham’s shed. They wore Guy Fawkes masks, the kind of masks that the locals and soldiers would wear for the Bonfire. Mary and Thomas were staying with the Judge while Abraham worked to reorganize things at the farm

Anna and Molly had been working at the tavern all morning. Not long after they opened, Abraham Woodhull entered the tavern. Molly was surprised to see him, especially after what happened last night.

She didn’t get a chance to talk to him, he made a B-line for Anna. Molly quickly finished serving her table and went over to the bar to talk to Anna and Abe. As she got closer, she heard mumbled snippets of their conversation.

Anna was the one speaking, “Everyone’s speaking of the ambush in Connecticut. Looks like your message got to Ben.”

Molly’s froze.

“Did you just say ‘Ben’?” she asked, butting into the conversation.

Abe and Anna stared at her wide-eyed.

Molly lowered her voice even more, “As in Ben Tallmadge?”

She had not said that name aloud for a long time.

Anna scoffed, “No, of course not. Why would we be talking about _him_?”

“You misheard us.” Abe agreed.

Molly eyed the two suspiciously but said no more. Perhaps she had just misheard?

Abe changed subjects, “Captain Joyce. He was quartered in your home, was he not?” He was addressing Anna, not Molly, and that bothered Molly. But, again, she remained quiet.

“Joyce, aye. In the room Captain Simcoe took. Won't have to worry about either of them now, do we?”

“You may have to worry about Joyce. My father believes that one of you killed him.”

Molly knew it!

Abe looked between Molly and Anna, “And he plans to say so to Hewlett. I need to look through the captain's belongings, try and find something that can tell me about the man.”

“What kind of something?” Molly asked.

“I don't know exactly. I mean, he obviously kept secrets. Why else would he walk to Lewis Field in the middle of the night to get his throat cut?”

“His trunk is in our home. I'll look through it.” Anna decided.

With that, she returned to her work and went to serve one of the tables. Molly remained beside Abe. She could sense that there was something Anna and Abe weren’t tell her. She decided to ignore it for now. Her mind was more preoccupied with the idea of Judge Woodhull identifying her as a person of interest in Captain Joyce’s death.

“Thank you,” she told Abe, “for your help.”

He nodded, “Of course.”

Before she could inquire about the health of Mary and Thomas after the fire, Abe was gone. And Molly was left standing beside the bar.

* * *

Molly spent the rest of her shift trying to ask Anna about her plan for searching Captain Joyce’s room. But she quickly realized that Anna was acting strange. She was hesitant to tell Molly anything. When Molly returned to the Manor that evening, Anna had already gone through Captain Joyce’s things and she had found promising clue.

It was an apparent love letter written to Joyce.

“This is fantastic!” Molly whispered.

They were in their shared bedroom when Anna presented the letter. Anna seemed quite pleased with herself. Molly quickly read through the letter. It read:

“ _My Dearest Captain,_

_When last we were together under the stars, I felt you were holding back your true feelings and most tender words. There is so much I wish for myself to say, but I thought better to wait until you spoke first. Please forgive my forward nature, but I must make my feelings known to you. It is my great happiness that this war would bring us together and my great agony that I cannot spend each day and every night in your embrace. You cannot understand how it warms me to hear the sound of retreat each evening. For even though it be end of day, mine ears hear reveille in the rising sun.”_

Molly stopped reading. “Does this mean what I think it means?”

Anna nodded excitedly, “The retreat? That'll be their signal for their meetings. Yeah, it's clever because Captain Joyce could have the regiment's drummer sound any alarm he wished to test readiness, so sound retreat. And, at the same time, signal to meet under the tree at Lewis Field.”

Molly skimmed the rest of the letter and, sure enough, Lewis Field was referenced. She had a sour taste in her mouth. _Who_ could’ve been having an affair with Joyce? And why did that person decide to kill him?

Regardless, they knew what the signal was for Joyce’s mistress. If they could replicate the sound at the same time it usually sounded, they could discover who the woman was and confront her themselves.

“Did Abe say he was coming to the tavern tomorrow? I’m sure he’ll be excited to hear this too.”

“That’s the thing,” a beat, “I already showed the letter to Abe. We met in the woods earlier today.”

Anna noticed the hurt expression on Molly’s face.

“Don’t worry! We were careful. We weren’t followed, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“No, that’s… that’s great.” Molly lied.

The truth was, she felt extremely left out.

First Abe and Anna were acting secretive at the tavern. And, when Abe devised this plan, Anna has dashed off to complete the task, not once informing Molly until the deed was done. And now, here Anna was, telling Molly that she had shown the letter to Abe by herself. It wasn’t like Anna to behave like that. And, although she hadn’t spoken to Abe recently, she knew it was odd for Abe to be acting that way as well.

There was something going on, but she just didn’t know what.

* * *

Molly dreamt of Ben that night.

In her dream, she was the one who protested Robeson’s outburst at the tavern, not Selah. It was her than shoved Robeson. It was her who Captain Joyce shoved to the ground. In her dream, Abraham did not rush to her defense. No one did. And the redcoats jumped to their feet and began kicking her on the ground before dragging her out of the tavern and throwing her into the stocks.

In her dream, she was left in the stocks for what felt like forever. She never received a trial. Instead, Captain Joyce returned and led her into the center of town. It was Bonfire Night, already. The bonfire had been constructed in the center of town. Molly was forced to fall in line behind several men in blue uniforms – the color the rebels wore.

“This is what we do to Whigs! Traitors of the Crown!”

The soldiers lit the fire, the fire meant for Guy Fawkes. And then two soldiers grabbed Molly by the arms and began to drag her closer to the burning pile. She fought against them, but suddenly found herself frozen as she recognized a man from the line of rebels. It was Benjamin Tallmadge. He looked just like he did when he left Setauket. Molly tried to cry out in her dream, but she couldn’t speak.

“This bitch will be the first to burn!” Joyce announced.

She was forced to look away from Ben, and then she was thrown into the flames. And she felt it burning her flesh. She was dying. But what about Ben? Ben. Ben. Ben…

* * *

Molly jolted awake, her body damp from sweat. She sat there for a moment to get her bearings. She was in her and Anna’s shared bedroom. She was alone in the bed and in the room, and sunlight spilled through the windows.

* * *

Molly and Anna had been busy at the tavern since early that morning. They were both preparing for the festivities. It was Bonfire Night. It was busy during the day, but it became almost unbearably crowded when the sun began to set.

Most of the soldiers were given the night off to attend the celebrations. More ale was poured and consumed, and more tables and glasses were cleaned and dirtied and then cleaned again. Molly was grateful for the steady business. It kept her mind off her restless night. She turned around quickly with a pitcher of ale and found herself facing Ensign Baker.

“Ensign.” She greeted, slightly out of breath.

She had been running back and forth in the tavern all evening. The Ensign gave her a friendly smile.

“Good evening, Ms. Strong. I’ve come to accept your offer.”

A grin spread on Molly’s face. “Yes. I’ll be right back.”

She quickly refilled as many mugs as the pitcher would allow and then hurried back to the bar. Ensign Baker was patiently standing there.

“Busy.” He observed.

She filled a mug and handed it to him.

“Yes.” She chuckled.

“Would it be possible for me to steal you to watch the bonfire?”

“Yes, that’s very possible. I’m sure Anna can manage without me.”

“Excellent. I’ll wait for you outside.”

Molly went back to her work and Baker took his time finishing his drink. Molly suddenly felt excited. This was exactly the type of distraction she needed.

* * *

The bonfire started an hour later. Anna was happy to watch the tavern while Molly went out. She said it wouldn’t be the same without Selah, anyway. So, Molly threw on her cloak and went outside. It was a chilly night.

Just as he promised, Ensign Baker was waiting for her outside the tavern.

“Hello, again.” Molly greeted, hugging her cloak around body.

They walked towards the fire in the center of town exchanging pleasantries. As soon as the fire was lit, a couple of soldiers began to play music on their military drums. The local children danced around the fire with their friends. And soon, Molly found herself laughing and chanting the familiar rhyme:

_Don't you Remember,_

_The Fifth of November,_

_'Twas Gunpowder Treason Day,_

_I let off my gun,_

_And made'em all run._

_And Stole all their Bonfire away._

It was the first time she had unapologetically enjoyed herself in over a week. And she was loving every minute of her small talk with Ensign Baker, no matter how bad at it he was.

* * *

The bonfire was coming to an end. Molly and Baker had said their goodbyes, and Molly was walking back to the tavern. She froze as she heard the military drum signal for a retreat. She turned on her heels and saw Abraham standing beside the bonfire. Major Hewlett and a strange man she didn’t recognize were standing beside the drummer.

She stood there beside the tavern, and this is what she saw: She saw Robeson break away from the crows and walk towards the woods. She watched as Abraham followed him. The strange man beside Hewlett departed quickly after that, as did the soldier with the drum.

She rushed back inside the tavern. It was practically empty, so she went up to Anna who was behind the bar.

“What is going on?”

* * *

Anna told Molly that the strange man was the major in charge of the Queen’s Rangers, a small militia working to fight the rebels – they were typically assigned to special missions. The major, named Robert Rogers, was visiting Setauket on a military matter, but he heard about Captain Joyce’s death and found it suspicious. He asked to examine Joyce’s body (which was being kept in the Strong Tavern’s cellar until it could be transported back to England – only officers’ bodies were sent home).

Apparently, Abraham told Major Rogers about the love letter found in Joyce’s belongings. Major Rogers decided that he wanted to see what would happen if they sounded the retreat signal. Anna didn’t know anything else. She only knew that much because she overheard their plan while they drank in the tavern.

* * *

Molly rested no better that night than the previous night. She never knew what happened with love letter or with the business involving Abe and Major Rogers. All she did know was, the next morning, Major Rogers had left town and there was a rumor that the company drummer had killed Captain Joyce. That drummer was now missing, and Molly presumed he was dead.

Abe didn’t visit the tavern after Bonfire Night. When she asked Anna about it, Anna said she hadn’t spoken to Abe either.

* * *

**Author's Note**

Not that anyone cares, but I was on Pinterest and found some stills of Holliday Grainger in _Tulip Fever_ (2017)

And, for real, Molly vibes


	3. 1x03

_Knock, knock, knock._

A few moments passed before the farmhouse door swung open.

“Molly!” Mary Woodhull greeted, ushering her friend inside.

Molly was glad to get out of the cold, and she began removing her cloak from around her shoulders.

“Here, I’ll help you with that.”

Mary took the cloak and draped it over the rocking chair. Abraham and Mary’s home was small. It was two stories, but there were only three rooms: the kitchen and a bedroom downstairs, and another bedroom upstairs. Although his father was wealthy, Abe preferred to make his own wealth.

“Hello there, little one.” Molly excitedly went about greeting Thomas, who was fussing in his cradle on the floor.

Mary took her infant into her arms so that Molly could see him better.

“So, what do you think, does he look more like me or Abe?”

“I’m just grateful he didn’t get his looks from your father-in-law.”

Mary half laughed half gasped in shock, “You’re terrible!”

Although she considered Molly a friend, she always forgot how biting the older woman could be. Mary knew it was not done out of bitterness. However, the only people Mary knew who talked like that were men.

“Tea?” Mary offered.

“Please.”

She let Molly hold Thomas for a moment while she retrieved two cups. She had already brewed the tea. Molly placed Thomas back in his cradle and found a place at the dining table.

“You just missed Abraham and his father,” Mary said as she poured the tea. “They left for York City about an hour ago.”

That was the reason for Molly’s visit. Abe was accompanying his father into the city – now known as New York City – on a business trip. Although Richard Woodhull was a Magistrate, he was also a businessman.

“We’ve certainly had a memorable couple of weeks.” Mary chuckled, placing a teacup in front of Molly and finding a seat across from her.

“Yes, we have.” Molly sighed heavily. Then she began sipping on her tea. “You could not believe how much I wish things would just go back to the way they were before –”

“Before Selah –?”

“Aye.”

Molly had thought about that day in the tavern so many times. It was like her mind was on a continuous loop of the events. She replayed what was said and what was done over and over and over again. No matter how many times she tried to reimagine the scenario, there was no way Selah could have come out of that altercation unscathed. There were too many factors and too many things that were still so unclear to her.

“I know I’ve never properly acknowledged what happened with your brother. I apologize for that. I want you to know that I’m here for you… And for Anna” Mary added.

Molly nodded. She didn’t want to talk about the subject any longer. If she did, she was afraid she’d get emotional. Just pausing to think about everything as a whole, it made her sick to her stomach, and it made her want to burst into tears.

“I see Abe’s already started rebuilding the shed.” Molly commented, trying to shift their conversation.

Suddenly, the door to the downstairs bedroom swung open and Ensign Baker emerged from the room, dressed in his undershirt. “Mrs. Woodhull, have you seen –” he froze when he realized that Molly was in the kitchen.

“Oh, good morning, Ms. Strong.” He quickly greeted her.

Molly faintly smiled and then quickly turned her head and looked down at her tea.

“You need help finding something, Mr. Baker?” Mary asked.

“Yes, ma’am, um, you wouldn’t happen to know where my socks are?”

“Oh yes, I washed them this morning. They’re drying outside.”

“Thank you very much.”

Baker bowed his head and walked past the women as he exited the house.

As soon as he was outside, Mary leaned forward, “What was that?”

“What was what?” Molly took a large gulp of her tea.

The two women eyed each other for a few seconds.

“What’s so terrible about seeking a husband?” Mary asked. “I am very happy with my marriage to Abraham.”

Molly rolled her eyes, “Mary –”

“I’m serious. Mr. Baker is a fine houseguest and a good man.”

“Mary –”

“I know you’ve had troubles with your past engagements –”

Molly slammed her hand down on the table making the teacups rattle. It was quiet for several moments, and the only sound in the room was the sound of the crackling fire. As soon as Ensign Baker returned from outside, the women continued their pleasantries and Mary said no more on the topic.

* * *

After her visit, Molly hitched a ride into town on her neighbor’s cart. He dropped her off at Strong Tavern and she went inside to start her shift. There were other employees at the tavern beside the Strongs, but with Selah gone, Anna and Molly were working overtime to cover all of Selah’s shifts. For the first time in nearly two weeks, Anna had officially rearranged their schedules so now Anna and Molly could return to their home at a reasonable time at night.

“Morning.” Anna greeted.

She hurried past her sister-in-law to deliver a round of drinks to one of the tables. Molly walked behind the bar and tied an apron around her waist – the apron went over the front lower half of her dress to protect her skirts.

“Did Mary have anything interesting to say?”

Molly shook her head and picked up a tray, “Not anything out of the ordinary.” She lowered her voice, “I don’t think he’s told her anything about the letter to Joyce.”

“Hm.” Was all Anna responded with.

Molly’s suspicions about Abe and Anna hiding something from her were beginning to disintegrate. Neither Molly nor Anna had spoken to Abe since Bonfire Night. And Anna was back to her usual self. She was far more talkative like she used to be, when Selah was still there.

“Well, perhaps it is for the best?” Anna offered. “Now things can go back to the way they were.”

Molly nodded in agreement, “Let’s hope.”

With that, she left the bar and to collect empty mugs and dishes from the tables.

* * *

It was Anna’s turn to close the tavern that night, so Molly asked one of the soldiers to give her a ride back to Strong Manor. She thanked the man for the ride, and he hurried back into town. Although the sun was already down, she stood facing in the direction of the ocean for a moment. She could not see the water, but she could smell it. And that’s also when she noticed something unusual.

She was completely alone in front of Strong Manor, and she began to walk in the direction of the water, to where the laundry line was. When she reached the line, sure enough, there was a single black petticoat hanging on the line. It was just like a few weeks ago when Anna hung the laundry. As far as Molly knew, no one had worn a black petticoat recently. She reached out and felt the material of the coat between her fingers.

Molly wracked her brain trying to come up with an explanation for this. Did this mean something? Or was it simply what it appeared to be? Just a petticoat hung out to dry.

“Psst.”

Molly jumped at the sudden voice. She looked around frantically, but there was no one there. She froze, listening for any other sound.

“Psst.”

There is was again!

The only place it could be coming from was the barn, which stood a couple hundred feet away. But the barn was empty; Selah had already sold all his livestock for the year. It was only supposed to be filled with hay. Although it was dark out, and although she was alone, Molly decided to investigate. She gingerly pushed one of the barns doors open and peered inside.

“Hello?” she said.

“Howdy!”

A man came into view and she gasped, nearly jumping out of her skin. But it took only a few seconds for the recognition to click and Molly found herself with a huge grin spread across her face.

“What are you doing here?” she laughed, closing the door behind her.

In front of her stood one of her dearest childhood friends: Caleb Brewster. Like with the Woodhulls, the Brewsters and Strongs had known each other for generations. When they were children, Caleb was the only Brewster the same age as Molly and Selah. They played together for most of their childhood and teenage years.

When the war began nearly two years ago, Caleb was extremely vocal about his support towards the rebels. But – as far as Molly knew – he never enlisted in the army. He was a sailor, by trade and by choice. Last Molly had heard, almost two years ago, he was sailing on a whaleboat headed for Greenland.

He looked much wilder than before. His beard was grown out and he was dressed in baggy sailing clothes. None of that mattered to her though, she allowed him to pull her into a tight bearhug.

“Ran into a bit of boating trouble. I was forced to land on the coast. Lucky for me, I got just about as close to home as I could.” He chuckled.

When they pulled away from their hug, she kissed him on the cheek.

“I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, Moll. Say, where’s your brother? I was hoping to say hello.”

Molly’s expression fell.

“What’s wrong?”

So she told him. She made her explanation brief.

As soon as she finished, Caleb swore, “Are you alright though? Those lobster backs aren’t attacking you and Annie now, are they?”

“Aye, we’re fine.” Molly lied. She didn’t tell him about Judge Woodhull or Captain Simcoe. Those were her problems. There was no way Caleb could help with that. He wasn’t staying in Setauket; she knew that much.

After a moment, Caleb changed the topic.

“You wouldn’t happen to have any food, would you?”

Molly found herself grinning again.

“I might. Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

* * *

She was on her way to the barn. It wasn’t late, but the Manor was quiet. The soldiers who were back for the night were eating in the dining room, where Abigail and the other slaves were serving them.

Molly went around to the back of the house, where there was an entrance to the kitchen. No one gave her a second glance as she filled a small basket with bread rolls, apples, and a bottle of rum. And then she was making her way back to the barn. She was at the barn door when she froze. There were voices.

She heard Caleb: “…We planned to... after we questioned him, but... the plan went wrong. Now he's in custody of...”

And then another voice: “Get out.”

“Come on.”

“Get out!”

“All right. If you can't keep a promise, then I can't trust you here. Out.”

Molly pushed into the barn

“Anna?” she asked.

And sure enough, there was Anna standing beside Caleb.

“When did you get back?” Molly asked.

She watched as Anna shot Caleb a nasty look.

“When were you going to tell me that she knows you’re here?” Anna quietly hissed.

Caleb didn’t answer her. Instead he walked over to the barn door.

“Come on, Molly, you can walk me to my boat.”

Molly looked at Anna, trying to figure out what was going on. Did Anna notice and petticoat too and come to investigate? And why did she seem to tense? She should be excited to see Caleb. They were childhood friends as well.

“We’re not letting him stay?”

“Of course not!” Anna snapped.

“Come on,” Caleb whispered to Molly and ushered her out of the barn.

She gladly let him guide her back into the night. He didn’t say another word until they had safely gotten into the nearby woods.

“What was that about?” Molly scoffed, offering Caleb some food from her basket. She brought it with them.

He grabbed one of the bread rolls and began to gulp it down.

“No, I don’t blame her Moll. There’s so many lobster backs running around, I’m surprised you’re treating me to well.” He chuckled.

They weren’t on any sort of path in the woods. The ground was uneven and covered in sticks and vegetation, but neither had any problem with their footing. The two of them knew these woods well. They had spent most of their childhood playing out here.

“I guess.” Molly agreed. The truth was, she didn’t blame Anna for her reaction. It was wrong of her to assume that Anna would react the same way she had. “Have you finally given up whale boating to become a privateer?” she asked. “I hear there’s advertisements for privateers in the rebel-controlled cities.”

Caleb chuckled, “I do my share of privateering and smuggling.”

“On the London Trade?”

“Aye.”

Molly found it comforting to hear about someone aiding the rebels. That type of information was always keep censored from the locals. It didn’t matter that the town was considered loyalist, the soldiers didn’t fully trust the locals to stay loyal.

“If I tell you something, you have to promise not to tell Annie.”

Molly felt herself become overwhelmed with the same mischievous feeling she used to feel as a child.

“You can trust me.” She said.

They slowed their pace and Caleb stepped in front of Molly. He spoke in a tone so that only she could hear.

“I'm Second Company, Fourth Battalion, New York Regiment.”

“No!” Molly gasped and gave him an excited shove.

“It’s true!”

Molly’s mind was racing. She asked the first question that came to mind.

“Have you met him?”

“Who?”

“George Washington.”

Caleb scoffed, “No, I’ve not met him. But I’ve seen him.”

They had continued walking towards the water again.

“What’s he like?”

“Can’t really say, but he’s tall. I’ll give him that.”

Molly sniggered.

“You didn’t let me finish,” Caleb added. “I'm assigned to Captain _Tallmadge_ for special detail.”

She stumbled and stopped walking.

“You know, Benny still talks about you.” Caleb continued, looking back at her. Even though it was dark, and even though it was hidden under his beard, she knew he was grinning.

“You’ve seen Ben?” That was the only thing she could think to say.

Caleb nodded.

“And he’s a _Captain_?” She could hear the pride in her voice.

Caleb nodded again.

Molly bit the inside of her cheek to keep from showing her smile, but she failed. It didn’t matter what had happened in the past, and it didn’t matter that she was still mad at Ben. The truth was, she still cared about him deeply.

“Well, that’s very nice for Ben.” She was trying to sound nonchalant as she continued walking once more.

A few minutes later, they came into a clearing by a small rocky beach. There was nothing there, and Caleb swore.

“Where’d he go?” Caleb asked under his breath and he walked closer to the water. “Where’d he go?”

“Where’d who go?”

“The bastard stole my boat.”

* * *

The three of them were back in the barn. Anna’s anger had quickly subsided upon Molly and Caleb’s return. Caleb was sitting on the floor, nibbling on the food that remained in the basket while Anna leaned against a post and Molly sat on a haybale.

“Have you chosen a means of escape?” Anna asked, breaking the silence.

“Actually, I could use your help on that score.” Caleb admitted.

“You mean a _woman's_ help?”

Molly finally understood. Anna was upset because of some comment Caleb had made earlier that night. Although he never made the comments to Molly, she knew that he liked to tease other women about their sex.

Caleb cleared his throat and kneeled in front of Anna, taking her hand. Anna was trying to suppress a grin.

“Ahem, Mrs. Strong, I would be eternally grateful if a brave and capable woman such as yourself could go down to the wharf and see if there might be any unattended boats that I could borrow. If only to get me out of your hair... and your barn.”

“Well, Mr. Brewster,” Anna replied just as formally, “since you asked so nicely, I'll see what I can do.”

Satisfied, Caleb fell back to his seat on the floor and got to work on what remained of the bottle of rum.

* * *

Anna returned to the tavern later that night to scope out a small boat for Caleb’s escape. Molly stayed at the house. She left Caleb in the barn and finally returned to the house, to avoid suspicion. Her plan was to eat dinner and then retire to her bedroom. However, she had quickly gotten trapped chatting with several of the soldiers and officers.

Although she had been done with her meal for close to an hour, she was still sat in the dining room. She feared the men would continue chatting all night, but then Abigail’s son, Cicero, provided her a means of escape.

“Mrs. Woodhull to see you, ma’am.” He announced to her.

“Of course. Tell her I’ll be right there.”

Molly quickly excused herself and followed Cicero to the front door. Mary was stood on the porch, refusing to come inside.

“Mary! What are you doing here? I didn’t expect a visit from you so soon.”

Mary’s expression was not friendly.

“Can I talk to you. Outside?”

Molly nodded and wrapped her cloak around her shoulders as she followed her friend to the front of the house. When they had separated themselves from the front porch and were in the yard, Mary began.

“Is it true?”

Molly stared at her friend. She had no idea what she was referring to. “Is what true?”

“I just spoke with Anna at the tavern, and she told me that she was engaged to Abraham before me.” Her voice was quiet, but it was also shaking.

Molly wracked her brain trying to think why Anna would tell Mary that information. The answer was: she wouldn’t. Unless of course…

“Yes, it’s true. But why were you asking Anna about Abe?”

Mary scoffed bitterly, “That’s not what I came to speak with you about. I just wanted to know if it was true.” She turned away and started to walk away.

“Mary wait,” Molly grabbed her wrist to stop her.

“Let go of me!”

“Listen to me, no one knows about what happened. Judge Woodhull knows because Abraham is him son. Selah and I only know because Anna told us. And we have told no one. No one else knows.”

Mary was still glaring at her friend, but she wasn’t fighting anymore.

“Please, you can trust me. Have I ever proven myself not to be loyal?”

Mary looked down at the ground for a moment, then she looked back up at the older woman.

“I apologize.” She finally said. “I lost my temper.”

Molly released her wrist. “I forgive you.”

“Good night.”

“Good night.”

And Molly was left standing in front of Strong Manor. She always found herself this way: alone.

* * *

Anna never mentioned a word about Mary. Neither did Molly. She was sure it was some elaborate ruse courtesy of Judge Woodhull. It didn’t matter if he was out of town. The man had a way of interfering in everything. So, Molly left it at that.

When Anna returned, again, from the tavern, she had a plan. Setauket’s harbor could hardly be called that. There was a dock, yes. But it was one small dock. Ships had to weigh anchor in the cove and take rowboats in order to access the town. That night, there was a rowboat tied to the docks. The plan was for Caleb to sneak over to the boat tonight and hide under the nets and canvases until the next morning. Then Anna or Molly would provide some sort of diversion to distract the guards on sentry duty near the docks.

They said their goodbyes. As Molly hugged her friend, she whispered in his ear, “Write to me. The same goes for if you see Ben. Tell him to write to me.”

“I don’t-”

“You don’t have to address them to me, and you don’t have to worry about signatures. I’ll know who it’s from.”

Caleb looked at her wearily.

“If it’s that much of a problem, send the letters to the Reverend. He can be discreet and pass along the ones meant for me.”

The local reverend was Reverend Nathaniel Tallmadge, Ben’s father. Molly rarely saw him since Ben left for the war and since the redcoats commandeered his church. The Reverend wasn’t one who would frequent the tavern.

“I’ll talk to Ben about it.” Caleb finally said.

Molly hoped he wasn’t just saying that to appease her. But either way, she had to trust him.

“Good luck.”

Anna and Molly stood at the edge of the woods and watched Caleb disappear behind the trees.

* * *

The next morning, Anna and Molly arrived at the tavern early. Their excuse for going against their new schedules was that they needed to do inventory.

“Give me a tray.” Anna asked.

They had just opened for the day. Anna had a pitcher of ale in one hand, but she needed the tray for the couple of empty mugs out on the bar.

“What’s the plan?” Molly whispered.

“Offer the sentries some ale left out overnight. Hopefully Caleb will recognize my voice and have the sense to take the boat.”

Molly’s face fell. She had recognized the sentries near the dock that morning. Ensign Baker was one of them.

“Wait, Anna.” She said, “Let me take it.”

“Why?”

“Mr. Baker is out there. It would make more sense if I were to offer it to him.”

Anna thought about it for a second, and then handed Molly the pitcher.

“You’re right.”

Molly took a deep breath and then headed outside with the tray. There were three sentries near the dock. Ensign Baker smiled at her as she walked closer to the dock. The single rowboat was still tied to the dock.

“Thirsty, gentlemen? Got left out last night. Warm, but it's still good.” She explained.

All three men flocked around her.

“Thank you, ma'am.” Baker said.

The men passed around the cups and the pitcher and began to drink the alcohol. Molly left them with the cups and pitcher, and slowly made the walk back to the tavern, hugging the tray to her chest.

A few moments later, she heard a man cry out. She whipped around, and sure enough, Caleb had successfully commandeered the rowboat, and he was rowing out to sea. The sentries threw down their mugs and hurried to the edge of the dock.

“Get after him! Stop him!” They shouldered their shotguns and fired at the rowboat. Caleb was already out of range though.

Molly hid her smile as she heard Caleb’s voice disappear in the distance. He was singing sea shanties.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm well aware that tea was hella expensive after the Boston Tea Party. I should've had Molly and Mary drink coffee or whatever, but I've decided that I'm not going to go back through and edit all the chapters I've written; I'm only proofreading them for typos.
> 
> Also, if anyone's wondering about the timeline. Lexington and Concord happened in April 1775. In this chapter it is November 1776. So, it's been a year and a half... but I think that "nearly two years" sounds better when you read it so...


	4. 1x04

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably one of my least favorite chapters I've written to far. So apologies :/

The morning Caleb left Setauket in his stolen rowboat, the sentries at the docks were taken to Major Hewlett to make a formal report. As punishment for allowing a rebel to evade their capture, the sentries received lashings in front of the church. Molly heard the news later that day.

When she heard, she rushed out of the tavern to find the nearest sentry. She didn’t bother telling Anna . She knew she wouldn’t understand. In fact, lately Molly was finding it more of a chore to make conversation with Anna. She didn’t realize that Selah made it look easy.

She asked the soldier if Baker was on sentry duty that evening.

The sentry said, “No, Baker is off duty tonight.”

Molly thanked him and returned to the tavern.

Although she was happy that Caleb had evaded capture, she couldn’t enjoy the feeling. It was now replaced with feelings of nausea and worry. All she could think about was if Baker and the other sentries blamed her for getting flogged.

* * *

That evening, she left the tavern early, and she began to walk in the direction of Abraham and Mary’s farm. She was determined to find Baker and apologize. As she walked along the path, a carriage carrying soldiers passed her. One of the redcoats asked her if she wanted a ride. She politely denied the offer, and they drove off.

She zoned out as she continued walking. Would things ever slow down? Her legs were numb as she walked down the path. And then her mind kept going back to Caleb. And that only made her want to think about Ben. She stopped walking and looked around her. She was on a dirt road. She was alone, surrounded by nothing but trees.

She could’ve gone with Caleb. It wasn’t like anyone was stopping her – well except maybe Caleb. Still. Talking to Caleb last night made her happier than she had been in a long time. And talking to him about Ben… It made her feel warm all over, but it also gave her the feeling of emptiness in the pit of her stomach.

She hadn’t always been alone. There was a time when it had been the Strongs and the Brewsters. Then the Strongs and the Tallmadges. Then just the Strongs. Then Mrs. Strong and Ms. Strong. But Anna wasn’t really a Strong. So, now it was just Molly.

“Ms. Strong!”

She nearly fell over at the sudden voice. She turned around down the dirt road a little way was Ensign Baker. He waved and began to walk towards her. Molly quickly pushed her anxieties aside and began to walk towards him as well. When they finally met in the middle of the road, Molly found herself stammering apologies.

“I heard about what happened. Are you alright? I’m so sorry! I know it was my fault –”

He chuckled and looked down at her, “You are not at fault.”

“I am though. I’m the one who offered you the ale. I am entirely at fault.”

“No. You are not.” He tried to reassure her. “If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine. I shouldn’t have accepted the ale. I was on duty.”

They looked at each other for a moment. Molly knew it was no use arguing with him, and she was grateful he was taking everything so well.

“Well then, at least know that I feel some blame.”

“Noted.” A beat. “Where are you heading? Could you use an escort?”

Molly smiled, despite everything.

“Actually, I believe we are going in the same direction.” She admitted.

“Are you visiting Mrs. Woodhull again?”

“Aye.”

“Then it would be my pleasure to escort you the rest of the way.”

Molly quickly found herself regretting her decision to seek out Ensign Baker.

He walked with her the rest of the way to the farm and, once again, proved himself to be a bad conversationalist. Whenever Molly tried to ask him anything related to himself, he became shy and turned the conversation back to her. Molly soon found herself stuck discussing boring details such as how the handle on the front door of Strong Manor seized up when it was too icy outside.

If that wasn’t bad enough, Baker was also considerably taller than Molly – in fact, he was one of the tallest soldiers under Hewlett’s command. Molly found herself nearly panting as she hurried to keep up with his pace. When they finally arrived at the farm, he excused himself and retired to his quarters.

Mary poured Molly a cup of tea and the two women sat at the kitchen table once more. Both could practically feel the tension in the air.

“I didn’t expect to see you so soon.” Mary commented. She was rocking Thomas in her arms.

“I know.” Molly sipped at her tea. “I didn’t like the way we left things last night.”

Mary eyed her up and down but said nothing.

“Mary, please. I apologize for not being completely transparent with you. Are we still friends?”

Mary looked down and smiled faintly.

“Yes, we are.” The younger woman admitted. “I’m sorry for making it seem otherwise.”

Molly let out a sigh of relief. She felt better than she had earlier. At least she still had the trust of Baker and Mary.

They sat quietly for several minutes, and Molly finished her tea. Mary broke the silence,” Do you have any plans tomorrow morning?”

Molly perked up at the obvious invitation. “What did you have in mind?”

“Lucinda Scudders is hosting a sewing circle tomorrow morning at her home.”

Molly nearly fell off her chair in shock.

She knew she was the _last_ person Lucinda Scudders wanted at her sewing circle. Mrs. Scudders belonged to one of the wealthiest families in Setauket. She was a widow who lived with her son and his family. The entire family of Scudders were some of the most vocal about their support of the British Crown and of the redcoats currently stationed in Setauket.

“I don’t know.” Molly said after a moment of mulling it over. “Would Mrs. Scudders really want me there?”

Mary chuckled, “I don’t see why not. You’d come as my guest.”

“I’m not the best at sewing.”

“Neither is Mrs. Scudders.”

The two women laughed. Molly was relieved that Mary agreed that Mrs. Scudders was a difficult woman. So, it was settled – against Molly’s bets judgement. She would meet Mary at the Scudder Estate the next morning.

* * *

Molly didn’t tell Anna about the sewing circle. She knew how she’d react. Instead, she told her she had a previous engagement she had forgotten about. Anna said she had no problem opening the tavern the next day.

So, that next morning, Molly asked one of the soldiers if he would give her a ride to the Scudders’ Estate. She arrived shortly after the other guests had arrived.

“There you are, come in!” Mary said encouragingly. She ushered Molly inside, where one of the slaves took her cloak, and then led her to the living area. The room was filled with all the women who grew up despising Molly.

“Mrs. Scudders, I believe you are acquainted with Molly Strong?” Mary asked.

Mrs. Scudders and Molly eyed each other. Oh, they were very well acquainted.

Mrs. Scudders was an elderly woman, but she remembered the Strong children well. Molly and Caleb used to sneak onto the Scudders’ property and cause chaos among the livestock. Molly remembered getting plenty of spankings from her parents the times they were caught. Selah was no better. Once he borrowed one of Mr. Scudders’ horses. He brought the horse back, but unfortunately Mr. Scudders noticed. Molly remembered the beating Selah had gotten for that.

As for the other women in the room, Mary was the only one who was close to Molly’s age. The rest also hailed from vocal loyalist families: Mrs. Smith, Mrs. Arbury, and Mrs. Georgiadis. And then, of course, Mary Woodhull.

“Oh yes. It’s been such a long time, Ms. Strong. How is your brother?” Mrs. Scudders replied.

Molly knew it was meant to be an insult.

She remained friendly when she replied, “I’m afraid I don’t know. We’re not allowed to send correspondence.”

“Oh yes, that’s right.” Mrs. Scudders still had a forged smile plastered on her face. “Nasty business, assaulting an Officer in His Majesty’s Army and all.”

“Yes, I suppose it was.”

The sewing circle began not long after that. The women sat in chairs around a table. On the table was the group’s latest sewing creation: an embroidered quilt.

Mrs. Scudders insisted that Molly practice her embroidery on a spare piece of cloth. Although it was meant to be an insult, Molly gratefully accepted the cloth. She had no intentions of making enemies with any of the women there. And she was not too proud as to admit that her sewing skills were lacking.

Molly sat uncomfortably beside the women as they worked on their respective corners and began to gossip. Most of the gossip was either already common knowledge or clearly fake. However, there was the occasional comment that made Molly think, _Have I ever been a topic of gossip at these meetings?_

“You can only imagine what a blacksmith's house looks like without a woman around. So Mrs. Hallock has loaned him her slave Zipporah to cook and clean until he finds a wife.” Mrs. Arbury commented.

“Mr. Shelton's not the only man who could use a wife, I'd say.” Mrs. Smith added before turning to Mary. “Your father-in-law, for instance.”

Molly had to look down at her lap and bite her lip to keep from giggling. _Is this what they do at sewing circles? Gossip about the Magistrate’s sex life?_ She thought.

Mary smiled politely. “Judge Woodhull always says he's married to the town.” A beat. “Though, I'm not sure the town will stay married to him.” It was said under her breath, but not quietly enough.

The other women in the room heard everything.

“What do you mean, dear?” Mrs. Scudders asked.

Mary realized that everyone was looking at her. Even the maid who was spinning thread stopped her work. She shot Molly a nervous look, but Molly did not feel any sympathy towards Judge Woodhull. If there was any scandal surrounding his name, Molly was glad to hear it.

“Nothing.” Mary tried to recover.

“It's not nothing. It's a real shame what he's doing.” Mrs. Georgiadis added. “Very serious, indeed. I feel the same way you do.”

Everyone in the room knew it was a lie, but now all of them were anxious to hear the gossip. Mary looked around at the group once more.

“You've... you've heard about it?”

“We hear all the rumors.” Mrs. Arbury lied.

“Aye, even I’ve heard word of it. At the tavern.” Molly butted in.

Mary relaxed after hearing Molly’s words.

“It's a terrible position that he's put himself in.” Mary continued.

All the women nodded in agreement.

“Why don't you tell us how you came upon it, in your own words?” Mrs. Scudders gave a reassuring smile.

So, Mary told her tale. She explained after the rebel – Caleb – escaped in the rowboat, Major Hewlett became almost certain that there would be an imminent rebel attack on Setauket.

The Major had initially commandeered the local church because of its strategic position within the town. It sat on a hill overlooking both the town and the bay. He had begun reassessing the church’s defenses and concluded that the church was not impregnable.

His plan was to dig up many of the gravestones from the graveyard beside the church. The stones would be moved to form a quarry in front of the church, to further protect it from potential attacks.

There was one hiccup in the plan, however. He had commissioned Judge Woodhull to decide which gravestones would be removed.

* * *

That night, an angry mob marched to Whitehall. It was comprised of about two dozen of the townsmen, but Molly tagged along anyway. This entire situation made her sick to her stomach. Additionally, her parents were buried in that graveyard. She refused to stand by and allow their graves to be desecrated. Anna refused to join her, and that made Molly even more determined.

Molly did not have violent intentions, but other members of the mob apparently did. Several of the men carried pitchforks and scythes. Molly stayed toward the back of the group. As they neared Whitehall, the soldiers guarding the house leveled their guns at the protesters.

“You there, halt!”

“Stand fast!”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Judge Woodhull emerged from inside his home. He was still wearing his nightgown and cap. “They've come to see me, not the major.”

The soldiers shook their heads.

“This is too many people. Disperse at once!”

“We demand an audience.” Maarten DeJong spoke. He was a local farmer and trader,

“They just want to talk.” Judge Woodhull tried to reassure the guard. When he saw that the soldiers made no move to stand down, he added, “I invited them. Gentlemen, glad you could come.”

“Is it true you mean to rip out all our gravestones?” DeJong continued.

Molly wasn’t sure why he was the one leading the mob. But she didn’t question it.

The Judge scoffed, “No, no. Where did you hear that?”

“Everyone knows, Judge.” John Robeson spoke up.

“They are necessary for the defense of the town.” Judge Woodhull tried to explain.

DeJong: “You mean defense of the garrison.”

Judge: “The garrison shields us from attack.”

Molly heard a rider coming up behind the mob. She turned and there was Abe. He watched from the back of the crowd.

Judge: “Listen, this is being done for you, for us. Just as our town fathers shielded us from the Nesaquake and from the Dutch.”

DeJong: But they never used our dead to do it.”

The crowd shouted in agreement, but Molly remained silent. She felt proud that her neighbors were rallying against this demand, but she was too upset from the Judge’s words to make a sound. She watched as Abe rode his horse closer to his father’s front porch.

Judge: “We... The stones of the founders will not be touched, I can promise you that. Nor of men who gave their lives for the Crown. Nor the stones of women.”

Molly’s heart sank. She knew what that meant. Her father’s name would be the first to go.

Robeson: “Well done, Woodhull. You've kept the souls of your wife and child off the chopping block.”

That’s when Abe cut into the conversation.

“He's protecting your families as well.” Abe said, “Do you think he wants to do this? Do you think you could choose any better?”

“Who has he chosen so far?” said Mr. James Arbury, a local farmer.

Judge: “The list is not complete.”

Robeson: “What gives you the right?”

Judge: “I am the magistrate!”

DeJong: “How is this law?”

The crowd shouted in agreement once more. This time Molly joined in.

Judge: “No stones will be taken without consent.”

She didn’t believe him.

Judge: “The heads of the families must agree to give, and since the giving will mean they are protecting their loved ones and their homes, I expect they will rise to it. Now, it is very late, and I am tired. Good night, gentlemen.”

Molly quickly made herself scarce and cut through the nearby woods to get back to Strong Manor. She was deeply troubled by the Judge’s words. This entire affair was the Major, a redcoat’s, concoction. Yet, he was having his dirty work be carried out by a loyalist, not a soldier.

If the Major was willing to do something as sacrilegious as this, there was no telling what officers were willing to do on an actual battlefield. When she returned to Strong Manor, she found Anna was already asleep. Molly slipped into bed and fell asleep saying prayers for Ben and Caleb.

* * *

The next day, Molly went to work at the tavern. Although Ensign Baker smiled at her, she did not smile back this time. She knew it was wrong of her to judge every soldier because of one soldier’s doings. But she couldn’t help it. She was bitter.

The entire day, she could feel the tension in the air. Word had spread like wildfire since yesterday. Everyone knew about both Judge Woodhull’s list and about the mob last night. Soldiers were wary of the locals, and the locals were wary of the soldiers. Molly wondered what would happen if it was always like this. She suddenly found herself excited.

 _Wouldn’t it be amazing if this made the entire town turn against the redcoats?_ She thought.

That day, she decided to visit Reverend Tallmadge. She had not seen him in many months. Since there was an increase of redcoats stationed at Setauket, they agreed it might be too dangerous for them to meet – because of their connections to Ben.

When his front door swung open, the older man burst into laughter.

“Molly!” he greeted.

He was clearly excited to see her. She smiled as well.

“Hello, Reverend.”

“Come in, come in!” he ushered her inside his small home. Because his home was so small and because they had already taken his church, there were no redcoats staying with him.

Molly remembered the Tallmadge’s old house vividly. It was a mansion compared to this place. She had loved that house. But Reverend Tallmadge was pressured to sell as the redcoat occupation grew, and as pressure grew against rebel sympathizers.

He poured her a cup of tea without asking. He knew what her answer would be. They sat at his kitchen table, and Molly gratefully took the warm teacup from him.

“Thank you.” She said, sipping from the cup.

“I know I haven’t been around. It was wrong of my not to check up on you after what happened with Selah.”

“It’s fine, really. It’s my fault. I’m the one who stopped coming by.”

The Reverend looked at her fondly.

“What brings you here?”

“Have you heard what they’re doing at the graveyard?”

Reverend Tallmadge let out a heavy sigh.

“Aye.” His excitement instantly diminished.

“Is there anything you can do?”

He shook his head slowly, “I’m afraid not.”

Molly understood. The Major was well aware of the Reverend’s rebel ties and sympathies. Neither of them would be surprised if the Major used an act of defiance to justify arresting the Reverend.

They both say there, mulling over their troubles with their tea.

“Have you heard from Samuel?”

Samuel Tallmadge was the Reverend's son and Ben’s older brother. Growing up, he was the only child the same age as Molly. They had remained close friends throughout their teenage and early adult life. When he was away at university, they used to write to each other. He would send her books.

Samuel had been serving as an officer in the Continental Army before he was captured by the British. He had been sent to a prison ship for the remainder of the war. Molly knew she didn’t think about him as much as she should, and she hated herself for that.

“No.” the Reverend admitted, “Letters are always delayed. I haven’t heard from him in a month.”

Molly put her head down on the table for a moment.

“What about Ben?”

She knew it had only been two days since Caleb’s escape. It was impossible for he or Ben to write a letter and for that letter to get to Setauket in that amount of time. She was already impatient though.

The Reverend sighed, “Now, Moll.”

She looked up at him.

“What?” she asked.

“I only ever hear from Ben during holidays. And, besides, you know him.”

“That’s a bad excuse not to write to me. You told him that, not me.”

The Reverend chuckled, “I did, I did.”

He reached across the table and took her hand in his.

“You know I would tell you if I received more word than ‘Merry Christmas! Yes, I am alive’.”

Molly snorted with amusement into her cup. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing she hadn’t heard from Ben?

“Why do you ask?”

She shrugged, “He’s just been on my mind lately. That’s all.”

Reverend Tallmadge knew that there was more to her story, but he didn’t pressure her.

They talked their way through three more cups of tea, each. By time the sun was setting, they both agreed that it was time for Molly head out.

They hugged each other at the front door.

“If we don’t visit soon, don’t forget to write.” The Reverend teased.

She grinned, “Mmhmm.”

They said their ‘good nights’ and then Molly made the trek back to Strong Manor.

* * *

The next morning, Molly heard word that Major Hewlett had changed plans. He now intended to dig up the graves that morning. She quickly dressed and hurried into town. She was not the only one there. The mob from two night before had quadrupled in size. It looked as if nearly everyone from Setauket was there. There were men and women and children.

Molly joined the group while they were still gathering beside the tavern. They were distributing guns to all the men. Molly was glad to see her neighbors finally uniting against the Crown, but she was also worried. She had known these people her entire life. They were not soldiers. If this turned violent, it would be a bloodbath.

She had never thought about the way she might die. On the hike up to the church, she decided that if might not be so bad to die a martyr’s death. Despite that thought, Molly stayed towards the back of the mob.

As they neared the church, the soldiers out front drew their swords or aimed their guns. The soldiers began to shout as they approached.

“Proceed no further!”

“This is an illegal assembly!”

“You may not gather here. Return to the village!”

Major Hewlett emerged from the church to watch the mob. Molly noticed a carriage pull up to the side of the church, and Judge Woodhull stepped out.

“Stand back!”

The mob, still led by Maarten DeJong, finally stopped. The people in the front were only a few paces from the redcoats. Judge Woodhull stepped between the two parties and faced the mob.

Judge Woodhull began his speech, “When Major Hewlett first proposed this plan, I was against it.” He glanced back at Hewlett, “Now I must disappoint the major yet again. I have no stones to give him.” He turned back to the mob. “My fault... was not in asking too much of you, but too little. We have failed to consider what's most important here. Not what we want or what the major wants. But what God wants.”

Molly scoffed in disgust. _He can’t be serious_ , she thought. _This isn’t going to sway anyone._

He continued, “And what He demands is sacrifice as a test of faith. For faith without works is dead. Abraham understood this when he brought Isaac to the mountain. And we must follow his example... and offer up that which we hold most dear, that which we would never sacrifice. Just as God sacrificed His only son to save us all.”

The Judge turned on his heels and walked to where the soldiers had prepared shovels. He chose one from the pile and then continued to the graveyard.

 _What’s he doing?_ Molly asked herself.

She gasped in horror as the Judge stopped in front of his eldest son’s – Thomas Woodhull’s – grave and began digging up the gravestone himself. The townspeople watched him for several seconds, then several of the men stepped forward to follow suit. They, too, took up shovels and began to dig up their loved ones’ graves.

Molly was frozen in place. She could feel tears welling up in her eyes. She tried to blink them away, but it only made them fall down her face. She was in complete shock.

And she was suddenly disgusted with herself. For the first time, in a long time, she had been proud of her neighbors. She thought they were finally beginning to see the truth about being under the Crown’s control. But, in the end, they didn’t change. They weren’t ever going to change.

She turned away from the church because she couldn’t look any longer. So, she made her way back to the tavern. When she was halfway down the hill, she noticed that she was walking alone. Everyone else from the mob had stayed to desecrate the graveyard. _Is it always going to be this way?_ She wondered.

She continued in solitude.


	5. 1x05

**December 24, 1776**

It had been over a month since the graveyard incident. Molly was grateful that the excitement in town finally seemed to die down. There was so much she was still bitter about. But as time passed, she found herself accepting the things that had transpired that autumn and winter. She was beginning to forget.

Although it was Christmas Eve, Molly was not spending it with Anna. Instead, she was going to visit Reverend Tallmadge and stay with him until Christmas morning. She had begun visiting him regularly again.

Although the tavern was closed on Christmas Eve, Molly found herself just as busy at Strong Manor. She was working with the slaves to prepare a large feast for the soldiers that night. She worked well until the sun began to set, then she hung up her apron and retrieved her cloak.

Anna noticed her preparing to leave, and she saw her to the door.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?” Molly asked asked.

She felt bad for leaving her sister-in-law behind. But Anna did not feel bad. She had never been particularly close to the Reverend, nor was she particularly religious. She had attended the church weekly, but as soon as it was commandeered, she never even considered finding an alternative option.

“No, you go on.” Anna tried to give a reassuring smile. She could tell that Molly was still wary though.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Molly promised.

“Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.”

They hugged briefly, and then Molly went out to meet the carriage.

* * *

As soon as she arrived at the Reverend’s house, the front door was opened, and the older man ushered her inside. Molly rushed inside from the cold. It had started snowing on the ride over.

“Merry Christmas!” they greeted one another.

He helped her out of her cloak and Molly quickly huddled near the fireplace. Before she could say anything else, the Reverend retrieved something from his kitchen table.

“It seems _you_ were thought of, as well, this year.” He said proudly, handing her a letter.

Molly stared at the paper in his hand for a second, then a smile broke out across her face. She snatched the paper from him.

“Really?” she gasped.

She took a seat at the table and began flattening out the first letter so she could read. There were two letters. The first one was from Caleb. It was dated two weeks earlier. She read:

_Merry Christmas! I found my way back to our lad safe enough. No word yet on when I might be finding my way back home. I still haven’t met the Big Man himself, but I’ll keep you updated. Hope everyone is well, and I hope your house guests are treating you well enough. Give Annie, and yourself while you’re at it, my love._

_Caleb Brewster_

She read through the short message three times. It was brief and there was a couple spelling errors, but she was too excited to care. She didn’t blame him for being vague. He was trying to protect himself as much as he was trying to protect her.

She turned her attention to the second letter. She froze. It was still Caleb’s handwriting, but this letter was addressed to Anna. Molly set it to the side and read through her letter a couple more times. There was nothing more to the letter, though.

 _That’s it?_ She thought. _That’s all I get? Six lousy sentences?_

The tucked the letter for Anna into the pocket of her skirts. She was sure it was just as vague as hers. She would give it Anna tomorrow.

She looked up at the Reverend and chewed on her bottom lip.

“Is this all there is?” she asked.

The Reverend nodded and place a cup of tea in front of her.

“Yes. I was surprised to receive a letter myself. I haven’t heard about Caleb Brewster in many years.” He sat down across from her. He noticed her troubled expression. “Everything alright?” he asked.

Molly nodded weakly, “Yes, it’s just… I don’t know. I guess I thought maybe it would be different this year.” She rested her chin in the palm of her hand.

The Reverend chuckled and slide another piece of paper across the table for her to read. He said, “I’m afraid not.”

Molly scanned the paper. It was the Reverend’s annual Christmas letter from Ben. Just like the Reverend had guessed weeks before, the letter said the same thing is always did:

_Merry Christmas! All is well._

It was Ben’s handwriting. She could tell it was him despite the lack of a signature. Her heart fell when she read the date; it was sent the same day as Caleb’s letters.

“Some things never change.”

Molly looked up at the Reverend once more. He was right. Some things didn’t change. It didn’t matter that she asked Caleb to talk to Ben. He couldn’t force him to do anything. Ben had a purpose for not writing, he told her that before he left for the war. She still didn’t like it though.

Reverend Tallmadge rose to his feet and retrieved a bottle from one of the cupboards. Molly laughed aloud as he placed a new bottom of rum on the table between them.

“Mr. Tallmadge.” She scolded jokingly.

He was smiling too, “Come on, Moll. Can’t have you in bad spirits. It’s Christmas after all.”

And so it was. He added some of the rum to her tea before topping off his own cup. He raised his glass.

Although they were the only two in the house, he kept his voice in a low whisper as he proposed a toast, “To victory.”

Molly raised her glass and whispered just as quietly, “To your sons. May they both be home before next Christmas.”

They both took hearty gulps of their spiked tea.

* * *

Molly awoke the next morning with a splitting headache. The night before had been nice. As they finished their tea, they sang Christmas carols and chatted about their plans for the New Year. The Reverend, who rarely touched alcohol, was pretty much out after two drinks. Molly helped him to bed, and then returned to the kitchen.

Molly hadn’t expected him to go to bed so early. She thought they would stay up talking about rebellion and Bible stories until the sun rose.

 _Oh well_ , she thought. _There’s always next holiday_.

Although there was a spare room and bed downstairs, she wasn’t tired. She sat beside the fire, trying to battle the cold sneaking in through the cracks in the floorboards. She stared at the fire for a long time. Then she turned and eyed what remained of the bottle of rum. It was a bad idea, she knew it. _But what else am I going to do?_ She asked herself.

She turned and took hold of the bottle, and she slowly filled up her empty teacup with the alcoholic beverage. She lifted the cup to her lips and drained the contents in two gulps. She coughed. Her eyes were watered as she felt the liquid burn her throat on the way down. The discomfort lasted only a minute though. Then she felt warm all over.

She looked back at the bottle. She sat quietly for several minutes. Then she filled her glass again and repeated. She could not remember ever being drunk. She had indulged before at friends’ parties, but she always stopped before it became too much for her to handle. She knew her limits. But something was different that night. She kept thinking back to her conversation with Caleb:

_“Write to me. The same goes for if you see Ben. Tell him to write to me.”_

_“I don’t-”_

_“You don’t have to address them to me, and you don’t have to worry about signatures. I’ll know who it’s from… If it’s that much of a problem, send the letters to the Reverend. He can be discreet and pass along the ones meant for me.”_

_I’ll talk to Ben about it.”_

He said in his letter that he had found their “lad”. She knew that meant that he was with Ben, and that also meant that he _had_ talked to Ben about it. And when Ben sent his annual letter to his father, he hadn’t even acknowledged her request. The fact that Caleb had said nothing made it hurt even worse.

So, on Christmas morning of 1776, Molly had a pity party for herself. And she drank, and drank, and drank. 

* * *

And, so, the next morning, Molly awoke with a splitting headache. She groaned as she tried to become aware of her surroundings. She was still sat at Reverend Tallmadge’s kitchen table. She could feel drool on her forearm, and she knew she had fallen asleep with her head on her arms, leaned against the tabletop.

She felt nauseous as she stood up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She was aware she had dreamed the night before, but she suddenly couldn’t remember anything she had dreamed about. Molly took a moment to look out the window. The sun was up. _What time is it?_ She wondered.

Then everything clicked: It was Christmas.

She quickly threw her cloak around her shoulders. She glanced up the stairs to where she knew Mr. Tallmadge’s bedroom was. She could hear him snoring upstairs still.

“Reverend! I overslept! I’m going to head back to Strong Manor!” she shouted.

The snoring stopped and she heard him stirring.

“Merry Christmas!” he called down tiredly.

“Merry Christmas, sir!”

And she left the house. She shivered as she stepped out onto the icy road. Although her head was killing her, she was starting to regain her senses. She was so embarrassed. Why had she behaved like that last night? And now she had overslept. It was still morning, but Anna was expecting her.

She walked partway into town, then a soldier driving a carriage stopped near her on the road.

“Merry Christmas!” the soldier greeted.

“Merry Christmas!”

“Do you need a lift?”

“Yes, please.”

The soldier dropped her off at Strong Manor. Molly was glad to see a ton of the slaves out in the yard, playing games and singing songs. She didn’t know Anna had given them the day off.

“Merry Christmas!” she greeted them.

“Merry Christmas!” a couple called back.

Smiling, she turned and began to make her way up the porch. She paused when she noticed a piece of parchment nailed to the front door. As she began to read it, her expression fell. The paper read:

To All Whom It May Concern

Take Notice

Selah Strong of Setauket, Long Island

having been found guilty of insurrection and rebellion against His Majesty the King

and his own country, will hence forth surrender and forfeit all property, including his farm, tavern, titles and possessions

and that the Crown grants freedom to his slaves.

God Save the King

Molly felt tears welling up in her eyes. She was homeless.

* * *

“Anna?” Molly called warily as she entered Strong Manor.

She didn’t hear a response, so she made her way to the dining room. A couple of soldiers were snacking on the leftovers from last night’s feast.

“Excuse me, have any of you gentlemen seen Mrs. Strong?” she asked.

One of the soldiers nodded, “She went to seek an audience with Major Hewlett.”

* * *

Molly took the first carriage she could find into town. Although it was Christmas day, she knew that the redcoats would still be on sentry duty, and the church would still very much be operational. She was walking up the snowy hill towards the church when she saw Anna exit.

“Anna!” she shouted.

Anna hurried down the hill to meet her sister-in-law. They didn’t bother greeting each other. Both were still in shock from the news.

“Is it true?” Molly asked.

Anna nodded her head, “Yes.”

Molly felt like fainting. This changed everything. It was over for her.

The truth was, Molly owned nothing. When her parents died, they had bequeathed everything to Selah: the family Manor, farm, slaves, and possessions. Molly was left nothing. There was a reason behind it, she was expected to already find a husband and share his property with him. And that plan would’ve worked, if her last engagement hadn’t ended the way it did. 

For the last nearly two years, Molly had been living with Selah and Anna because of their generosity. She lived with them for free, but that also meant that she worked for them for free as well. When Selah was arrested, all of the Strong family property was placed in Anna’s care. Molly didn’t legally have control over anything. She had no money, no savings, no possessions. Everything she currently owned was due to the generosity of her brother and sister-in-law.

“I think I’m going to be sick.” Molly admitted.

“Come on.” Anna linked arms with Molly and began to lead her in the direction of the tavern. It was open for the day, and Anna had Molly sit down in one of the back-storage closets.

Molly sat on a stool and watched as Anna paced back and forth in front of her. She could tell her sister-in-law was just as distressed. She knew she was thinking of the slaves. Many of the slaves on the Strong property were there because of Anna. Abigail and Cicero, for example, had been part of Anna’s dowry when she married Selah. Anna had known Abigail since they were both children. Although Abigail was a slave, Anna still thought of her as family.

“What did Hewlett say?” Molly asked.

Every part of her felt numb, but it wasn’t from the cold.

“All he said was that the Proclamation would be upheld. He said we’re lucky this wasn’t approved weeks ago.” Anna scoffed in disbelief. “As if that would have been any better.”

A beat.

Anna kept shaking her head, “They’re taking everything. And you know the worst part?”

Molly raised her eyebrows, waiting for an answer.

“Major Hewlett says that the Crown views slavery as a sin. Then why are they sending all out male slaves to New York to help with the war effort? Not to mention what’s going to happen to Abigail. They’re sending the women to work as maids and slaves for British officers.”

Molly’s face scrunched up in confusion.

“Can they do that?” Molly asked.

“Apparently.”

Anna was crying tears of frustration now.

“They’re giving us until the New Year to vacate the house and find new lodgings.”

Molly bit the inside of her cheek to keep her tears back. She was shaking now, not from anger, but from fear. Molly was very afraid.

* * *

Later that day, Molly found herself sitting on the front porch beside Abigail’s son Cicero. They had just received word that Cicero was to stay in Anna’s care until he was older. He was still just a boy – twelve years old. It didn’t matter that the redcoats were forcing his mother to go work in New York. Cicero couldn’t go with her.

They had been sitting there for the last half hour, not saying anything. Anna went upstairs to tells Abigail the news.

“Are you sure they won’t let me go with Mama?” Cicero blurted.

Molly had always liked Cicero. He was a good kid.

“I think so.” Molly replied. “They seem pretty sure to me.”

“Maybe they’ll change their minds.” Cicero offered.

That made Molly smile. She quickly wiped away a tear that was running down her cheek so he wouldn’t see.

“I hope they’ll change their minds.”

“I do too.”

They continued to sit there in silence. Watching the snow fall on the clothes hanging on the laundry line.

* * *

The next few days felt like a dream. Major Hewlett told Anna and Molly that they could lodge in Strong Tavern. The tavern would remain under military control, but only until they could find a suitable buyer to sell it to. As for Strong Manor, now all the soon-to-be occupied lodgings would become rooms for more redcoats.

The women already packed up small cases of clothing and stationery. Now all they had to do was wait until the New Year came. Then that’s when they would move out.

When Molly was closing the tavern one evening, Abraham came up to her.

“Molly,” he greeted, “Is it true? What Anna said?”

Molly turned the key in the lock and turned to her old friend. She looked him over for a second. He hadn’t spoken to her in weeks, and now he was behaving as if he was as close to her as Mary was.

“What, that they’re taking everything?” she asked.

Abe nodded, “So it is true?”

“Yes, it’s true.”

Molly pocketed the key and hugged her cloak tighter as she began to walk away from Abe. He followed her.

“I’m sorry, Molly.” He said.

He glanced over at him. He was walking beside her now.

“What are you sorry about? Sorry that you’re still here because your father is the Magistrate.”

She regretted saying that the moment it left her mouth. But, at the same time, she believed that. She knew Abe had only been pardoned because of his father’s position.

“What’s what supposed to mean?” Abe asked. He was trying to sound taken aback, but she knew it was all show. It was always all show with Abe. For the first time in a very long time, Molly lost her temper.

“You know what it means.” She said quietly.

She and Abe were standing closer to each other now, speaking in whispers.

“I know you’re in distress, but there’s no reason to take it out on me.”

“Mary knows about you and Anna.” She blurted.

She didn’t know why she said that. Maybe because she knew it would surprise him. And it did surprise him. She could see the emotions form and dissolve on his face.

“What, you told her?” he asked.

“No. She figured it out herself.” It was a lie, but she didn’t want Abe to harbor any ill feelings towards Anna – especially not in a time like this. “Mary asked me.”

Abe briefly rubbed his temples.

“Good night, Molly.” He said calmly.

And then he was gone. Molly felt like crying. _You’re a bad friend_. She thought. But she couldn’t decide if she was referring to Abe or to herself.

* * *

**January 2 nd, 1777**

It was Anna and Molly’s last evening at Strong Manor. It would be their last evening ever sleeping inside the walls of the house. This was the night Major Hewlett had chosen to free the slaves and send them off on their new assignments. The slaves were all gathered in front of the Manor. Anna, Molly, and Cicero watched as the Major walked back and forth in front of the small crowd.

“As you may have heard, you are being sent to New York to join the war effort.” Hewlett announced. “There you will be assigned to the Black Pioneers and serve under Captain George Martin. At the end of your tours, if you have served diligently, you will receive these signed papers attesting to your freedom.” He lifted a folded piece of parchment over his head.

Molly rolled her eyes. She knew there was a catch. There was always a catch when dealing with the redcoats.

Hewlett continued, “Take heed. If you try to desert your ranks or flee your duty, your freedom will be rescinded permanently.”

Anna and Molly said their farewells to the slaves as they were assigned and taken away on different carriages. Abigail and Cicero were saying their own separate goodbyes. Abigail’s carriage would be last. But it still felt like her carriage came too quickly.

“Good luck.” Molly said, pulling Abigail into a hug. “We’ll look after him.” She promised.

Anna walked her the rest of the way to the carriage. She could see them talking. She walked over to where Cicero was and put an arm around his shoulder. He stood stony faced, but Molly knew he was just trying to be brave. She knew how he felt. She, too, had been left behind.

After a few minutes, Abigail climbed into the carriage. She waved goodbye as the driver took off. The three of them watched her carriage disappear into the trees. And they continued staring down the road, even after they lost sight of her.

* * *

The next day, Anna, Molly, and Cicero were working at the tavern. For the first time since working there, Molly was working for a wage. Major Hewlett promised them that they would be compensated for any work _after_ the tavern was sold. They could use that compensation to pay off the debt of the rooms they were now renting at the tavern. Molly was not wrong; there was always a catch.

She stepped outside during her break to get some fresh air. Since Christmas, she was having trouble standing the smell of alcohol. She noticed Ensign Baker on sentry duty nearby. In all the confusion of the past week, she hadn’t even considered wishing him a happy New Year. So, that’s what she did. Like always, he smiled at her as she approached him.

“Happy New Year!” she greeted.

“Happy New Year to you as well, ma’am.”

She was going to say more, but he then he added, “I want to speak with you. Are you free this evening?”

She thought about it for a moment. He had never been this forward. Something wasn’t right.

“Aye. I should be free by time the sun sets.” She admitted.

“Do you mind meeting me by the dock at sunset?” he asked.

Although every part of her was telling her something was wrong, she found herself agreeing.

“Alright.”

* * *

Just like he said, he was waiting for her by the dock at sunset. She was still wearing her apron from the tavern. She wiped her hands off on it as she approached him.

“Here I am.” She laughed.

He did not reply in a friendly manner. He seemed troubled.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

He looked down for a moment, “I don’t like gossip. I find that only harm can come from it.”

Molly raised an eyebrow.

“But you want to tell me something?”

He nodded. He looked around for a moment, almost as if to confirm that they were the only two currently beside the dock.

“It involved your sister-in-law and Mr. Woodhull.”

Molly blinked, first in surprise, then she recalled all the strange meetings and happenings right after Selah was arrested. She believed then that they were hiding something from her. But she had dismissed it as a simple misunderstanding.

“What about them?” Molly asked, anxious to hear the rest.

Baker lowered his voice, “On New Years’ Eve, I drove Mrs. Woodhull and her son to Whitehall. Mr. Woodhull stayed behind at his farm. When I returned for the evening, I found him and Mrs. Strong in… in an _intimate_ position.”

Molly stared at Baker in shock. She knew they were hiding something, but she hadn’t been expecting that.

“Oh.” She managed to stammer in response.

“I’m sorry to trouble you with this information. But you have always been kind to me. If it got out, I’d hate for this scandal to harm you in any way.”

Molly swallowed the initial shock and nodded her head.

“No, you’re right. I appreciate it. Thank you for telling me.”

They said their goodbyes and Molly hurried to her room in the tavern. At the tavern, Molly and Anna were still sharing a room. Anna was working until the tavern closed, and Molly was grateful to have the room to herself.

She paced around their small room, turning over the newly acquired information in her mind. There was something so unusual about the last two months. But she was also missing something. She didn’t have all the information, and that made her felt like puking, screaming, and crying all at once.

 _How could she do this to Selah?_ Molly screamed in her mind.

She angrily took off her apron and began to remove her tight bodice and skirts. As she was undressing, she heard a piece of paper fall on the floor. She looked around her and was stood looking down at the letter that Reverend Tallmadge had given her. It was the letter addressed to Anna. In all the confusion, she had completely forgotten about it.

She flopped on the bed and looked over the paper in her hands. That’s when her suspicion started up again. It was very peculiar that Caleb Brewster just happened to hide in the barn at Strong Manor. Just as it was very odd that he had written separate letters to both Molly and Anna. She knew Caleb. If this was a letter simply to let them know about his welfare, he would’ve sent just one note.

Then there was the whole thing with Ben. Caleb hadn’t mentioned a single thing about Ben’s lack of communication. And Molly could’ve sworn she heard Abe and Anna mention his name a few weeks earlier.

And that’s why she decided to rip open the letter. It was just as brief as the note Caleb had addressed to her. She scanned the letter. It read:

_I know I shouldn’t be writing to you, but I’m afraid our friend asked that I write to her. So I am fulfilling her request as to not make her suspicious. You know how she can be. I passed along the message our associate entrusted to me. Please tell him that our lad was very pleased with the news. Speaking of our lad, I told him about our friend and how she inquired about his health. He was glad to hear about the state of her health, but he remains quite obstinate that she is not to be involved. Please alert our associate so that he knows this information as well. Thank you again for your help. Hopefully I will never have to call upon you again on such late notice._

_Caleb Brewster_

She read over the letter again and again. He used the same language as he had in her letter. The “lad” was obviously Ben. And the “friend” was obviously her. But then there was the comment about an “associate”. Who could that be? It couldn’t be Abraham. He was trying his best to appear as a loyalist.

 _But so are you_ , Molly told herself.

Molly looked up, her mind racing as she tried to piece together everything. The same thought repeated over and over in her mind.

 _So are you_.


	6. 1x06

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be a short chapter bc they’re legit not in Setauket in this episode ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

~~Dear Ben~~

~~Benjamin~~

~~Benji~~

~~Dear Benjamin~~

~~My dearest Benjamin~~

Molly groaned in frustration and crumbled up yet another piece of parchment and threw it across the room. She closed her eyes and let her head fall onto her writing desk. She felt like she was losing her mind. It had been less than twenty-four hours since Mr. Baker told her about the potential affair between Anna and Abraham. And it had been less than twenty-four hours since she opened the letters intended for Anna.

She had already decided that she would not confront Anna or Abe on the manner. She had been mulling over Baker’s words all night: “an intimate position”. That didn’t necessarily mean they were having an affair. Heck, if anyone had caught her in the barn when Caleb was in town, they would have called that an “intimate position”. The affair or non-existent affair, whichever it was, was not the thing that was troubling her. It was Caleb’s letter.

She knew from Caleb’s wording that the letter was not expected. She had been so in distress that she had practically memorized the letter.

_I know I shouldn’t be writing to you, but I’m afraid our friend asked that I write to her. So I am fulfilling her request as to not make her suspicious. You know how she can be. I passed along the message our associate entrusted to me. Please tell him that our lad was very pleased with the news. Speaking of our lad, I told him about our friend and how she inquired about his health. He was glad to hear about the state of her health, but he remains quite obstinate that she is not to be involved. Please alert our associate so that he knows this information as well. Thank you again for your help. Hopefully I will never have to call upon you again on such late notice._

_Caleb Brewster_

Based on the letter, she absolutely knew that something was going on, and Ben didn’t want her involved. All she had been able to piece together was that Anna was involved in aiding Caleb and Ben – and, therefore, the rebels – in some way. And that made sense when she thought back to the petticoat on the laundry line. Not only had Anna hung one, but Caleb had too.

Then there was Abe. From the strange series of events, she inferred that Abraham was aware of Anna’s activities, but he wasn’t directly involved. That could more reasonably explain the “intimate position” Mr. Baker had found them in.

For the past three hours, she had been angrily scrawling a letter to Ben, demanding that she be allowed to be involved. The more the wrote, the more she believed she sounded immature. The last thing she wanted was any of her friends thinking ill of her. So, as she crumpled up one last piece of paper, she made her peace with the situation.

Although she felt beyond betrayed that she was excluded from all this, she didn’t dare confront Anna or Abe. If she made it known that she was aware, she was sure it might ruin whatever their plan was. She made the decision right there, right then: She would do everything in her power to protect whatever secret Anna, Abraham, Caleb, and Ben were sharing.

* * *

The next morning, she found Ensign Baker assigned to patrol the old schoolhouse – which had been commandeered and converted into an armory.

“Good morning, Ms. Strong.” He greeted.

She kept her voice low.

“Have you told anyone else about our secret?” she asked.

His expression became serious.

“Of course not.”

 _Good_ , she thought.

“I want you to swear right now,” she said aloud, “I want you to promise me, you will not breathe a word of this to anyone… ever.”

He looked hurt by her words.

“You can always trust me, Ms. Strong.”

She studied his face for a second. He seemed to be telling the truth. When she decided that she was satisfied, she said, “Thank you.”

For once, she left him standing there alone.

* * *

Her last order of business was to make amends with Reverend Tallmadge. It had been over a week since Christmas, and she still had not apologized for her unusual behavior. Her shift had just ended for the day, and she was preparing to go visit him. However, when she descended the stairs, she found Anna sitting at a table with Maarten DeJong. There were several papers spread out in front of them.

“Hello Mr. DeJong.” She greeted, then turned to Anna, “What’s going on?”

Anna refused to look her in the eye.

“Mr. DeJong is purchasing the tavern. I am just signing what remains of the paperwork.”

Molly’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. What did Maarten DeJong want with the tavern? He was a farmer not a… She had almost forgotten; DeJong had recently gotten involved in trade. The tavern would give him new trade contacts all throughout New York.

“Congratulations, Mr. DeJong.” Molly lied, trying to fake a smile, “What are your plans for Strong Tavern?”

DeJong chuckled, “Don’t worry, I’ll still allow you both to work and board here. If that’s what you’re getting at.”

It wasn’t. Molly had never been particularly fond of Mr. DeJong. He was not originally from Setauket, but he had lived there many years. What she disliked was his obvious interest in wealth. He was cheap and always trying to make a quick buck.

Molly gave Anna a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before she headed out of the tavern.

* * *

Reverend Tallmadge hardly batted an eye at Molly’s apology. She had explained that she had been feeling out of sorts ever since Selah left, and that she was in a particularly low point when she came over for Christmas. She had barely begun her explanation when Mr. Tallmadge held up a hand. She stopped speaking.

He shook his head and chuckled quietly, “Molly.”

“What?”

“You have nothing to apologize to me for. I, too, find myself at a strange place during the holidays.” He took a drink of tea. “What you do not understand is that I was so pleased to have you over here for the holiday. No one visits me. Who would want to visit the old rebel-loving preacher anyway?”

Molly found herself smirking at that comment.

“Please do not fret.” He concluded. “You know not what you do. You know not what joy your visits always bring me.”

When Molly left the Reverend’s house, she left as a different person. All of the loose ends in her life were now tied up. For the first time in a long time, she felt confident. But if only she had known how fleeting that confidence would be.


	7. 1x07

**February, 1777**

Molly was trying to control her gag reflex. She had stepped out of the tavern to empty the spittoons.

“Morning, Ms. Strong!”

Molly looked up, squinting in the sunlight. Ensign Baker was making his rounds near the tavern. She waved back at him, and then went back to her work. She collected the spittoons in her arms and was beginning to head back into the tavern when she noticed Anna walking down the hill.

Every week Judge Woodhull allowed the townspeople to visit him to settle any local legal grievances or disputes – the disputes varied from compensation to actual crimes. Because so many of the disputes regarded the King’s Army, Judge Woodhull and Major Hewlett began reviewing the disputes together. Every week for the last four months, Anna had gone to the church to seek parole for Selah.

She had gone again today and, based on the way she was walking down the hill, Molly guessed she had once again been unsuccessful.

“How did it go?” Molly asked when Anna joined her for her shift at the tavern.

Anna walked behind the bar and tied an apron around her waist.

“‘The Counsel recommends no parole at this time.’” Anna said quietly, imitating Judge Woodhull. “Apparently, Mr. Woodhull is searching for a copy of the petition for the New York Convention.”

Molly swore under her breath. She had nearly forgotten about that. Two years ago, before Ben and Caleb left for the war, a petition had circulated in Setauket. It was a petition for nominations for the New York Provincial Congress.

In Britain’s eyes, the Continental Congress was an illegal body that had no political power. The rebels disagreed. To the rebels, the Continental Congress should be the political body ruling the colonies. The British considered it illegal to sign the petition to select candidates.

Of course, Ben, Caleb, Abraham, and Selah had all signed it. Back then, none of them cared about vocalizing their rebel sympathies. That was before Setauket was under military occupation.

“The Judge can’t use that as an excuse forever.” Molly commented. “That was so long ago that I doubt anyone has a copy. Besides, so what if they did sign it? Abe signed that petition too. The Judge can’t protect him forever.”

Anna eyed her for a moment, then grabbed a rag, “Well, let’s just pray they don’t find obtain a copy.”

She walked back into the center of the tavern and began to wipe down some of the tables. Molly sighed. She agreed.

* * *

It was getting late. The last of the customers had trickled out, and it was now just Molly, Anna, and Cicero in the tavern. Because Cicero was still under Anna’s care, Mr. DeJong said it would be alright if the boy stayed and worked with her as well.

Anna was wiping down the last of the tables, Molly was sweeping the floor, and Cicero was placing clean mugs back on the shelves behind the bar. They all turned their heads as the door to the tavern swung open.

“Mrs. Strong?”

It was Ensign Baker. He was carrying a small satchel under his arm.

“I'm closing up for the night.” Anna replied, “Mr. DeJong asks I send the rum down to the cellar at ten o’clock.”

“No, that's fine. I've come to deliver this, courtesy of Major Hewlett.”

Anna left her rag on one of the tables and took the satchel from Baker. She opened it, and inside was a knitted hat.

“It came tonight via dispatch rider from New York.” Baker explained. “A Major John Andre sent it for the child of his housemaid, who Major Hewlett remembered is in your care and asked me to bring...”

“Cicero!” Anna called him over. She was no longer listening to Baker. Molly had stopped listening as well. The hat was from Abigail!

“Look, it's a birthday gift from your mother. Look what she made.” Anna laughed, giving Cicero his present.

A broad grin broke out on his face as he tried the hat on. It was a little big; Molly was sure that was done intentionally, so he could grow into it.

The door to the tavern opened again. The person Molly least expected to see entered: it was Abe.

“Mr. Baker.” Abe greeted awkwardly.

Baker nodded slightly and took back the satchel from Anna. Molly watched them curiously. Only Baker was aware that Molly knew about what had transpired on Christmas Eve. The fact that Abe and Anna didn’t know made her curious how they would behave now. As far as Molly was aware, Anna had not spoken to Abe since the start of the New Year.

“Ma’am.” Baker bowed his head towards Anna, excusing himself.

“I’ll walk you out!” Molly said, leaning her broom against the wall.

She quickly made her way passed Abe and stepped out into the cold night. She stood beside Baker for a moment outside the door, saying nothing.

“How are you?” he finally asked.

She crossed her arms over her chest, her teeth chattering, “I’m alright.”

She felt a twinge of guilt. Since she made him promise not to tell anyone about the affair, she had stopped regularly speaking with him. The more she found herself thinking about Ben, the less attracted she felt toward Baker.

“Please, give our thanks to the Major.” Molly added. “For the delivery.”

Baker nodded and smiled.

“Of course. Good night, Ms. Strong.”

“Good night, Mr. Baker.”

Molly stood there a moment, watching him walk back in the direction of the church. She shivered once more, then returned to the warmth of the tavern. When she was inside, Abe and Anna were no longer in the main room. She could hear their voices though; they were speaking in whispers in the adjacent room.

Cicero stood at the bar, admiring his gift. They made eye contact, and Molly held a finger to her lips. The boy nodded, and Molly crept over and placed her ear against the door. She closed her eyes in concentration. She couldn’t make out most of what they were saying though. This was all she heard:

Anna: I told you, Abigail promised to keep an eye out in New York.

Abe: No, no, I mean I … alive? You told me that he was...

Anna: Dead.

Abe: Brewster. I am gonna...

Anna: Caleb didn't lie to you, I did. He and Ben… but… got freed somehow.

Abe: And so you lied to me…?

Anna: I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

Abe: Come tomorrow, we'll both be.

Molly heard someone shuffle closer to the door. She hurried away from the door and grabbed her broom right as Abe exited out of the adjacent room.

“Goodnight.” Abe said to no one in particular.

Although her heart was hammering, Molly wanted to do one more thing.

“Abe, wait.” She said, following him out of the tavern.

She silently cursed herself for coming back out into the cold without her cloak.

“What is it, Molly?” Abe asked.

“I wanted to apologize. I know we have not spoken in many months. But please know that I regret the harsh words I used when we last spoke.”

Abraham nodded his head slightly. He didn’t make any indication that he was going to reply. 

So, she continued, “I know things have changed, but I miss when we were friends… before the war.”

Abe looked down at his shoes, “Aye, things have changed.”

“And please know, Mary does not think less of you. It is in the past. She was just… surprised. I’m not sure how she managed to piece things together.”

It felt strange to lie like this. If she was going to protect their secret, she needed to make amends. Her goal was to appease Abe, and perhaps rekindle any sort of alliance existed between Anna and Abe, and Abe and herself. 

He lifted his eyes and looked at her for a moment. “You’ve been a good friend to Mary. She speaks fondly of you… Thank you for that.”

Molly gave him a sad smile. _Look at us_ , she thought lamentably. _We want the same thing, but we’re too afraid to say it out loud_.

“Have a good night, Abe.”

“You too.”

He turned and began headed towards his horse and wagon. She turned and made her way back to the warmth of the tavern. When she reentered, Anna had gone down to the cellar to see that the rum was put away. It was ten o’clock.

Cicero had finished his job putting the mugs away, and he was now wiping down the last of the tables. He was wearing his gift.

Molly walked over and stood across the table from him.

“What frightened Anna and Mr. Woodhull?” she asked quietly.

Cicero stopped what he was doing and glanced up at her timidly.

“What do you mean, ma’am?”

“I stepped outside to speak with Ensign Baker. When I returned, Anna and Mr. Woodhull had retreated to the other room. Why?”

She tried to keep her voice calm and level. She didn’t know how much time she had until Anna came back upstairs.

“It was just a note from my mother. It was meant for Ms. Anna.” Cicero admitted.

“What did the note say?”

The younger boy nervously laughed. “I don’t know, Ms. Molly. I can’t read.”

Molly knew that was a lie. She had caught Abigail and Cicero reading countless times while staying at Strong Manor. She never confronted either of them about it. They were not her property, they were Selah’s. She never told Selah because Abigail and Cicero never showed signs of rebellion. They were good workers, and Anna liked their company.

“Don’t lie to me.” Molly said sharply.

Cicero stared at her wide-eyed for a moment. He was obviously frightened. Molly did not back down.

Finally, Cicero nodded. He said, “Simcoe alive. Returned Setauket this Monday.”

Molly was sure if she wasn’t already holding onto the table, she would’ve fallen over. She could feel her hands already starting to shake with anxiety.

She kept her voice calm though. “Thank you.” She said. “Do not tell Ms. Anna that I asked about the note, and I will not tell her about your reading.”

Cicero nodded quickly. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Go to bed, I’ll finish up here.”

Cicero nodded again and hurried upstairs to his room.

Molly remained leaning against the table. She didn’t care why or how Abigail had gotten the information to them. Abigail’s involvement in Abe and Anna’s secret was the least of her concerns.

Molly knew she should’ve been expecting this. There had never been an official announcement regarding Captain Simcoe’s death. She remembered what a pain the man had been the last time she saw him. She expected him to be no more pleasant this time.

But this time was different. This time she and Anna were more vulnerable than ever. They had nothing, and they were now reduced to being tavern wenches. If she truly wanted to protect whatever secrets Anna and Abe were hiding, she knew things were going to become more difficult than ever come Monday.

* * *

Monday came, and Monday went, and Captain Simcoe did not pay a visit to the tavern – now DeJong Tavern. His failure to make an appearance only made Molly more antsy. Was he planning something? Was he still trying to investigate Captain Joyce’s death? That matter had been finished for a long time.

What made it worse was that she couldn’t vent her frustrations to Anna. Molly found herself keeping a close eye on her sister-in-law. So far, Anna had done an excellent job appearing unphased.

Molly knew Simcoe had returned to town though. Ensign Baker had commented on it earlier that day. Molly was outside cleaning one of the tavern windows when Baker approached her. He was assigned to deliver mail to the soldiers that day.

“Good day, Ms. Strong.”

She continued her work as they made quick conversation.

“How are you, Mr. Baker?”

“I’m quiet very. Thank you.”

“I hear from the soldiers inside that Captain Simcoe is returning to us.” Molly said nonchalantly.

She decided it wasn’t strange to inquire about him. After all, the news was no secret.

“Yes, that’s correct. He arrived just this morning.” Baker replied.

“Oh, he’s here already?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

They exchanged a few more pleasantries and then Baker hurried off to finish his deliveries. Molly began to scrub the windows with more determination.

It was only a matter of time.

* * *

They were not reunited with Captain John Graves Simcoe until Tuesday night. Since DeJong had taken ownership of the tavern, he extended most of the hours – to appeal to more soldiers. It was close to midnight when Simcoe entered the tavern.

Molly, with a pitcher in hand, was making rounds around the tables, refilling mugs as she went. Anna was on the floor beside the bar with a rag and a bucket. One of the customers had had too much to drink, so Anna was cleaning his vomit off the wooden floorboards.

She kept her eyes trained on Simcoe as he made a B-line for Anna. He said something that made Anna jump. She replied to him and then jumped to her feet and hurried to the back room behind the bar, where they kept extra inventory. Simcoe followed closely at her heels.

Molly silently swore. There was no way she could go to spy on them. The tavern was packed, and the volume was rising by the minute. She would have to pray that Anna was safe and hope that Anna would tell her more later that evening.

A few minutes later, Molly turned around and found herself face-to-face with Captain Simcoe. She jumped and nearly spilled what remained in her pitcher.

“Ms. Strong.” He flashed a smile that was more menacing that friendly.

“Captain Simcoe.” She was trying to remain composed despite her anxieties.

“May I have a word?”

“Yes, alright.”

She walked over and placed her pitcher on the bar, then she followed Simcoe outside, to the front of the tavern. Once again, she found herself shivering in the night air.

“Welcome back.” Molly said watching her breath as it came out in white puffs in front of her face.

“Thank you. It’s good to be back.” He paused to look towards the water. Then he turned his attention back to her. “I believe I owe you an apology. I hear that Captain Joyce’s assailant was discovered and punished accordingly.”

“Aye, that’s correct sir.”

She was being overly formal out of nervousness.

“I hope whatever misunderstandings we had in the past do not come to affect our future relationship.”

Molly digested his words for a second. His words frightened her.

“Relationship, sir?”

“Yes, Ms. Strong. You see, before my absence, Mrs. Strong and myself began to develop a friendship. Unfortunately, due to my judgements against you, I did not take the time to develop a similar friendship with you. I hope that my return will allow me to correct that.”

He was watching her very intensely. Her eyes darted around his face, trying to decide if he was mocking her or not. The truth was, she couldn’t tell. The “friendship” he was referring to was when he shamelessly flirted and stalked Anna in her own home. If he intended to do the same with Molly, then she very much did not want any sort of friendship he was offering.

Despite her knowledge of Simcoe, Molly knew it would be just as dangerous to decline his friendship as it would be to accept it.

 _Appease him_ , Molly told herself. _That is the only way to escape this conversation without conflict._

“Thank you, Captain.” She feigned a smile. “I would like that.”

Simcoe replied with a feigned smile of his own, the kind that made Molly fearful that he was mocking her all along.

“Glad to hear it.” He said. “Good night, Ms. Strong.”

As soon as he turned to leave, Molly rushed back inside the tavern. Her hands were shaking, but not from the cold. She tried to gain control of herself as she refilled her pitcher at the bar. She had hardly been back inside a minute when Anna rushed over to her.

Her sister-in-law frantically whispered in her ear, “Simcoe intends to kill Abraham.”

The pitcher fell from Molly’s hand and ale spilled all over the floor.

* * *

As soon as the tavern was closed for the night, the women rushed up to their shared room to discuss the matter.

“Start from the beginning!” Molly demanded.

So, Anna told her. She told her that on Christmas Eve, she had gone to see Abe. Mary had already left for Whitehall with Thomas. Abe was alone at his house, and he was drunk. They got to talking, and they kissed. As soon as they kissed, Ensign Baker returned to the house for the evening. Since Christmas, Anna and Abe had mutually agreed to stop seeing each other, and to keep their interactions minimal.

No one knew about what happened on Christmas except for Anna, Abe, and Baker.

_And me_ , Molly thought.

That evening, when Simcoe had followed Anna to the room behind the bar, he had made the same proposal he had made Molly. He wished to resume his “close friendship” with Anna. She had tried her best to appease him, and she used her legal status as a married woman to fend off his advances. But right before Simcoe had said goodnight – and gone to speak with Molly – he said something. Anna’s recounted their exact words:

“I told him, ‘My husband's imprisonment has cost me Strong Manor, this tavern, and my status in the town. And yet... there's something I cling to, as you did. My honor. And while I remain a married woman, I ask your help safeguarding it.’

“And Simcoe replied, ‘Absolutely. Tomorrow at dawn at the millpond, I intend to avenge it. You no longer need to worry about unwelcome advances from inebriated farmers. I'll see to that.’”

Molly pondered those words for a minute.

“You think the same thing I do?” Anna asked.

Molly nodded. There was only one reason why Simcoe would say something like that: he knew about what happened on Christmas. Molly felt like screaming. She had trusted Ensign Baker, but he had betrayed her. 

“But dueling is illegal.” Molly shook her head in disbelief.

A duel involved two people agreeing to fight with matched weapons. Traditionally, it involved pistols. Rather than firing on each other at the same time, there would be a coin toss. The men would then take turns firing upon each other until one man was hit or until one man refused to take his shot – during this time period, firearms were flintlock-based, meaning that their aim was incredibly inaccurate.

“Do you think Simcoe cares about that?” Anna scoffed.

There was no telling what Simcoe had threatened, or done, to encourage Abe to agree to a duel.

“You’re right. If what Simcoe says is true, we need to find Abe and stop him from going.” Molly agreed.

“Or we need to warn his father.”

“Aye.”

* * *

It was the early hours of the morning, there was no one to offer the women a ride, so they practically ran to Abe’s farm, with lanterns in hand. When they arrived at the farm, Anna beat on the front door.

“Abe! Abe!” she shouted.

Molly knew that Mary and Thomas were staying at Whitehall for the next few days. If he wasn’t here, there was no telling where he was. She ran over to the small house at the corner of Abe’s property, where his two slaves lived. She could see light through the windows

“Luke! Jeremiah!” she hollered.

As she approached the small porch, the older slave Luke stepped outside in his nightshirt.

“Ms. Molly?” he asked trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

“Luke, we need to find Abraham. Where is he?”

Luke shrugged. Anna had left the front door and ran over to where Luke and Molly were.

“No one's answering the door and his horse is gone.” Anna reported, “Did he say he was going anywhere?”

“No.” Luke shook his head. “Last I saw, he was shooting. On that old scarecrow over there. Taking shots with some old rusty pistol he had. Don't think he hit it, though. Maybe that's why he was mad.”

Anna and Molly exchanged the same look. They thanked Luke, then left immediately for Whitehall.

* * *

The soldiers guarding the house let Anna and Molly in without a problem. One of the guards went to wake Judge Woodhull. After a few minutes, they saw him descending the stairs.

“Judge Woodhull,” Anna began, “I'm sorry to barge in at this hour, but I desperately need your help.”

The Judge waved her off. “It's taken care of.”

Molly’s eyebrows knitted in confusion.

“It is?” she asked.

“After conferring with Major Hewlett, who is also sympathetic to your plight, we have agreed to pardon your husband on one condition. That he signs an agreement not to challenge the attainder following his release.”

Molly rolled her eyes. She was grateful to hear about Selah, but this was no time for celebrating. Anna did the same. She smiled for a moment, and then said, “No.”

“Yes, yes,” the Judge snapped, “and you will make sure he signs it.”

“No, no, that's not why I'm here.” Anna explained. “You need to get dressed. I'll explain on the way.”

“You'll explain it right now.” Judge Woodhull said firmly.

“Your son has made a terrible mistake and unless you hurry, he's going to pay for it with his life.”

That got the Judge’s attention. He needed no more explanation, and he hurried upstairs to dress.

Molly grabbed Anna’s arm, “I’ll head for the millpond. Hopefully I can reach them before they begin. Meet me there.”

“Go!” Anna agreed.

It was nearly dawn, and they both knew they were running out of time. Molly went outside and had one of the soldiers bring her a horse. She didn’t have time for a carriage or wagon. It would only slow her down.

The soldier helped her climb into the saddle, and then Molly took the reins. She rode horse for much of her teenage years. In fact, Ben taught her to ride. She clicked with her tongue and the horse took off.

* * *

The millpond wasn’t far from Strong Manor. Molly remembered when the millpond hand been created, when a small dam was built over a decade ago. She directed her horse through the woods. She cold air bit at her skin as she had her horse increase its speed. The sun as already rising, and she wasn’t even halfway there.

 _I’m not going to make it_ , she thought in vain.

It was an overcast morning, and the sun was mostly risen when Molly arrived at the millpond. She pulled the reins and stopped her horse before they got too close to the water. The last thing she wanted as to spoke the poor animal with freezing water.

She quickly dismounted and ran toward the millpond. She could see Abe and Simcoe and two other men – the men would’ve been selected to be “seconds” for those dueling, to supervise and ensure it was a fair fight. She felt a pit forming in her stomach when she recognized one of the seconds, it was Ensign Baker.

“Stop!” she screamed.

Abraham had his pistol aimed at Simcoe.

“Get out of here, Molly!” he shouted back.

Molly lifted her skirts so they wouldn’t trip her as she got closer to where the men were. Baker and the other redcoat – she couldn’t remember his name – hurried over to stop her.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Strong, we can’t allow you to interfere.” Baker said.

She glared at him, feeling nothing but hate for the man now. Baker avoided her gaze.

“Don’t tell me what to do.” She spat.

The other soldier grabbed her wrist.

“Hey!” she exclaimed.

“We cannot allow you to interfere, it has already begun.” The other soldier added.

She stood there, fighting against the soldier’s grip as Baker turned back to watch the duel.

“Fire, when ready, Mr. Woodhull.” Baker said.

Abe nodded and lifted his pistol once more. Molly continued to fight as she watched. The soldier had managed to twist her around, and he was now restraining both of her wrists behind her back. She was trapped. She couldn’t fight properly in all her layers of clothing, and the soldier was twisting her one arm tightly against her back. She worried if she fought too hard, he would dislocate her shoulder, or break her arm.

Abe didn’t fire immediately. She could see the concentration on his face. He did not want to miss his shot. After several minutes, he pulled back the hammer of the gun, and then he pulled the trigger.

Molly blinked as she heard the gun fire. Simcoe was still standing. She saw him assess himself for a moment, but he was unharmed. Abe had missed.

Although Molly didn’t approve of this duel, she was still disappointed to see that Abe had missed.

“My turn.” Simcoe said. “I want you to know, Woodhull, that whilst I've killed many such as you, I shall treasure this particular encounter.” A beat. “Of course, I may just decide to cripple you.”

Abe turned to his side. Molly knew he was trying to make it harder for Simcoe to hit him. In a duel, there was no shame in turning to the side. After all, so much of the shooting involved luck. Like Abe, Simcoe took his time lining up his shot. She watched him pull back the hammer. Any moment now, he would pull the trigger.

“Abraham! What do you think you're doing?”

Molly and the soldier restraining her jumped. They both turned to find Judge Woodhull and Anna charging towards them from the woods.

This doesn't concern you!” Abe shouted. “Do it.” He was addressing Simcoe.

Baker walked over to the Judge and Anna. He told them the same thing he told Molly.

“Sir, I can't let you interfere. Mr. Woodhull has had his shot.”

“This is an affair of honor.” The soldier added.

“Whose honor?” Anna demanded, “Mine? Because I assure you, it is not my honor that has been offended here. It seems far more likely that it is your own honor... yours and yours, sirs, that is at stake here.”

Molly looked back at Simcoe and Abe.

“I am prepared to receive your fire.” Abe stated.

Anna pushed passed Baker and ran to Simcoe.

“Please, John.” She pleaded. “As I told you, I'm a married woman before the law. What happened at Christmas was a mistake... for which we were both at fault. I swear, sir. There is nothing between us. It is over. We have both returned to our vows until fate determines otherwise.”

Simcoe paused and looked at Anna, “Fate?”

Anna nodded, “No one knows what the future may bring. But if you go through with this now, I don't know what our fate here can be.”

Molly listened to everything with a heavy heart. Anna was practically sacrificing herself to save Abe.

Then Simcoe’s gun went off. Molly yelped in shock. He had pointed his gun at the ground and fired. Anna had fallen to her knees in fright. But the bullet hadn’t hit anyone. Simcoe had taken his shot, so, in the eyes of the duel, he had maintained his honor.

“I have satisfaction.” Simcoe commented.

Molly let out a sigh of relief.

_It’s over._

“Reload, please.”

Molly turned to look at Abe once more. Had he lost his mind? He wanted to continue? Baker stepped over to him and they talked in hushes voices for a minute.

“Just load the pistol.” Abe hissed.

Baker looked at Abe reluctantly, then took the pistol from Abe and started to reload it.

“This is illegal!” Judge Woodhull cut in.

Baker returned the pistol to Abe. Knowing what was happening, Anna made distance from Simcoe and stepped over to where Molly and the Judge were.

“Hold him! Hold him!” Abe demanded.

Baker returned to where Molly was already being restrained, and he stopped the Judge before he could get any closer.

“Abraham, come to your senses!” his father pleaded.

“This is my battle.” Abe insisted. “I don't need your protection.”

“Protection?” the Judge scoffed, “I will show you no mercy! If by some miracle you succeed in wounding or killing this officer, I will personally prosecute you to the full extent of His Majesty's law!”

They heard Abe cock the gun.

Molly could do nothing. She could just watch in horror. She hated Simcoe, it was true, but she was horrified because this could mean the end to everything. She had tried her hardest to protect Anna and Abe – for Ben’s sake – but she had failed.

The Judge made a last attempt to sway his son, “Abraham, don't throw your life away. If not for me, then for your wife, your son! This is about more than you!”

Molly could see the frustration on Abe’s face as he mulled over his father’s words. He kept aiming the gun, staring down Simcoe. Then his grip would loosen, and he’d glance down at his feet. Finally, after several agonizingly slow minutes, Abe lowered the pistol… this time for good.

He said nothing as he dropped the pistol to the ground and walked past Simcoe, and then past where Molly, Anna, and the Judge were all being restrained. Molly and the Judge were released immediately. Molly shot one last glare at Baker, who still refused to look her in the eye. Then she turned on her heels and followed after Abe. When she reached her horse, she mounted and rode the horse back into town.

* * *

The following days passed slowly. Because no one was harmed during the duel, no one was prosecuted. Judge Woodhull asked Abraham and Simcoe to forget their feud. Both men, apparently, agreed. Molly didn’t believe it though. She didn’t trust Simcoe.

The following days also consisted of preparations. The Judge had remained true to his word: Selah was receiving a pardon. Despite the reasons behind the duel, the truth was Abe had business to attend to in York City. York City was also where the Jersey was anchored. It was decided that Abe would give Anna a ride into the city. Once there, Anna would reunite with Selah and Abe would complete his business. They would all return to Setauket, and that would be that.

Despite her bitterness over the details related to the duel, Molly was excited to see her brother. She had no idea if Selah would intend for he and Anna to stay in Setauket. The idea of potentially moving away with them – if they offered – worried her. She had lived in Setauket her entire life. She would need more time to consider what her decision would be.

She was stood outside the tavern, seeing her friends off. She had already said her goodbyes to Anna. She watched Abe load the last of his father’s crops – technically Selah’s crops that the Judge had seized because of the attainder. (Selah would be making no profits from his last harvest. Molly was too tired to be disgusted. She had thought it a hundred times, _There was always a catch_.)

She was stood there when Ensign Baker appeared beside her. She looked over at him, a scowl forming on her face.

“Ms. Strong. I know you deserve an explanation.”

She sneered, “You lied to me.”

He paused for a second.

“Yes.”

“Do not attempt to make amends. I have nothing more to say to you, Mr. Baker.”

She turned her attention back to the carriage. Although she refused to look at him, Baker said one last thing before he left.

“I deeply regret my decision to entrust Captain Simcoe with that information. Please know how sorry I am.”

And then he left. Molly stood still for a few seconds, then she walked over to where Mary was standing. She had also come to wish Abe farewell.

“How are you?” Molly asked.

She had already heard the entire story. Not only had Ensign Baker told Captain Simcoe, he had also told Mary. Molly wanted to kill him she was still so angry.

“I have been better.” Mary admitted. “Do you trust them?” She nodded towards Anna and Abe. They had finally settled into their seats at the front of the carriage.

Molly nodded, “I do.”

But the truth was, she _didn’t_ know.


	8. 1x08

A day had passed since Anna and Abe left for York City. Molly found herself working even longer shifts to make up for Anna’s absence. It was early in the afternoon, and the tavern was extremely quiet. Molly was taking the time to go around scrubbing the floor with a rag and a bucket of water. She crawled around on her hands and knees, trying to clean any remnants of mud or dried vomit that remain on the wooden floorboards.

There were only three men in the tavern. A soldier drank alone at one table, and Captain Simcoe and John Robeson were sat across from each other at another. Molly didn’t know why those two were drinking together. For once, she wasn’t eavesdropping, she just happened to be there as the two men began to talk.

“Thank you for sitting with me, Mr. Robeson.” Captain Simcoe began.

“Well, If I can be of aid, I will.” Robeson replied.

“I've been charged by Major Hewlett with ferreting out a conspiracy in town.”

Molly perked up at that comment. What did he mean? Certainly, he wasn’t still trying to investigate Captain Joyce’s death or the incident that happened between Anna and Abe?

“Conspiracy?” Robeson asked.

Simcoe nodded, “Tell me what you know about Benjamin Tallmadge and Caleb Brewster.”

Molly froze mid-scrub. She could feel the blood draining from her face, and she was overcome with a wave of nausea. _What did he just say?_

Robeson shrugged, “Well, there's not much to tell, really.”

“Any associates?” Simcoe asked, “People in the town they might've been in league with?”

Molly remained unmoving. She was hanging onto every word.

“Well, there's Tallmadge's father.” Robeson was speaking slowly. Molly could tell he was struggling to remember, “He used to be the minister here.”

“And Brewster?” Simcoe encouraged.

“His father died of the palsy a few years back. Has a sister still alive with it and an uncle he was very fond of.” Robeson sighed, and she heard him shift in his seat. “Molly, you knew the lads better than I do. Did I miss anything?”

Molly turned around, trying to appear unphased.

“Sorry?” she asked, wiping her hands on her apron.

Robeson turned back to Simcoe, “You should talk to Molly. She was engaged to the Tallmadge boy for a time.”

Simcoe raised an eyebrow at that comment.

“Oh, really?”

* * *

Molly now found herself sitting across from Captain Simcoe. She held her hands in her lap, trying to disguise the fact that she was shaking. Robeson was still in the tavern. He sat at the next table over, sipping at his ale.

She was being as cooperative as she dared. Simcoe had not continued to interrogate her. He just stared at her. Molly knew he was trying to size her up. She prayed he didn’t realize that she was doing the same thing to him.

“You were engaged to Benjamin Tallmadge?” he finally asked.

“Yes, sir.”

Two years ago, before Ben left for the war, they were engaged. It was a detail that most of the locals had come to forget. It was so long ago, and she hadn’t been the only women whose engagement had ended because of the war. The difference was, Molly wasn’t the one who called off the engagement; Ben called it off. She wanted to go with him, but he claimed it was too dangerous. She was left behind.

After they called off the engagement, she started living with Selah and Anna, and she started working at the tavern. She had been there ever since.

“Curious.” Simcoe commented.

He was still trying to size her up.

“Pray tell me. What happened?”

Molly looked down at her lap, “There’s nothing much to tell.”

She was extremely uncomfortable discussing this. The fact that Simcoe was asking about this made her worry. Did he know about the secret Ben, Caleb, Anna, and Abe were all involved in? Was that why he had returned? He clearly knew about Ben and Caleb, but not about Anna or Abe.

“I doubt that.”

 _Keep it brief. Keep it brief_. Molly told herself.

“Benjamin and I grew up together. When the war began, he wanted to leave Setauket… to help the rebels. I didn’t agree with his decision.”

“So you broke off the engagement?” Simcoe clarified.

“Aye.”

 _Liar_ , she thought.

“If it’s traitors you’re looking for, I doubt you’ll find them in Setauket.” She added. “I’m sure they’ve all left to aid the rebels by now.”

Simcoe smiled coldly.

“I am not so naïve, Ms. Strong… I commend you for decision to remain loyal to the Crown.”

Molly looked down, to avoid Simcoe’s gaze.

“Do you still associate with your almost father-in-law?”

“The Reverend?

He nodded.

“I visit him from time-to-time.”

“As a courtesy?

“I suppose. He’s all alone out there, on his property.”

She felt guilty to talk about the Reverend like that. It was so much more than that, yet there she was, lying to save her own skin.

Simcoe finally turned his attention back to Robeson.

“What about that weasel, Woodhull, for example?” he asked. “The one who got away with the murder of Captain Joyce?”

Molly and Robeson exchanged an uncomfortable glance. Molly knew it. This was as much about the rebels as it was about Abe.

“Ensign Clayton killed the captain.” Robeson replied. Clayton was the drummer who had been blamed for the crime.

Simcoe chuckled. Molly had never heard him laugh. The sound sent shivers down her spine.

“Do you really believe that one of His Majesty's finest captains was done in by the regimental drummer?”

Molly said nothing, so Robeson finally made the comment, “If it's rebel sympathizers you're looking for, the petition for the New York Convention is a good place to start.”

“Petition?” Simcoe asked.

Molly had forgotten about the petition. It was the same one that Judge Woodhull had been looking for as evidence to use against Selah. However, the Judge had stopped his search for the petition.

Molly could see the gears turning in Simcoe’s mind as he contemplated this new information. This would not end well, she knew. Now Simcoe would be searching for the petition too, and she knew that Simcoe would not give up in his search. 

_You’re a coward_ , Molly thought. She was referring to herself.


	9. 1x09

“Selah is dead.”

The pitcher of ale slipped from Molly’s fingers and fell to the floor with a sharp _clang_. She quietly excused herself, stepped over the spilt ale, and walked outside. She had felt nauseous plenty of times recently. But this was the first time she was physically ill. She leaned against the side of the building and vomited. She didn’t care if people were looking at her. She continued to heave, over and over.

She could feel the tears forming in her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall. Someone was next to her. It was Anna. She had come out to check on her. Her sister-in-law said nothing as she led her back into the tavern and upstairs to their shared bedroom.

Molly heard Anna speaking to her, but the words didn’t make sense. Every part of her felt numb. She remembered sitting down on the bed, and then Anna left. She remembered crying. There was a point when she was gasping for air, she was crying so hard. Her head, her chest, everything hurt. Eventually she laid down and she let sleep take her.

* * *

A week passed. Molly was doing better, considering the circumstances. She had started working longer shifts than DeJong paid her for. She didn’t care about the money. She wanted to stay busy. It helped her keep her mind off things.

Anna and Abe had been different since their trip to York City. Although she was also in mourning, Anna seemed to be in a better mood. She told Molly how relieved she was. She said she no longer had to worry about whether Selah was alive or dead. Now they had an answer.

Then there was Abraham. He had been frequenting town more often. Each day he was in town, he made it a priority to visit Anna or Molly at the tavern. He would buy a drink, ask about their welfare, and then leave as soon as he finished his ale. Molly didn’t think too much of it. She was sure it was just because of Selah’s death.

That day, a shipment of ale arrived on the dock. She went outside to open the outside door to the cellar and show the soldiers where to place the boxes. When they were at the door to the cellar, several soldiers rushed past them. They were going in the direction of the doctor’s office.

“Wonder where they’re going in a rush.” One of the soldiers chuckled, placing down the case of ale he was holding.

They found out later that day. There had been an accident at the church. The church served both as Major Hewlett’s headquarters and as a stable for the military horses. That morning, the Major had been reviewing reports when he fed his horse one of the apples on his desk. The horse had dropped dead. The rumor in the tavern was that the apple had been poisoned.

Molly listened intently to the gossip – mostly because it didn’t make any sense. _Who would try to poison Hewlett?_ She thought. No one had any recent disagreements or skirmishes with him. Besides, it was extremely difficult to concoct a poison in town. Dr. Andrews was the only one with access to the ingredients used to make most poisons. And he kept his books extremely organized. Every gram of each ingredient was always accounted for. As for Dr. Andrews, the man had been a loyalist for decades.

Everything began to make sense later that afternoon.

Abe was there for his daily drink. Anna was refilling mugs and Molly was refilling the pitchers behind the bar. When the door swung open, they found themselves staring at a soldier. Next to him, with bound hands, was Lucas Brewster.

Lucas was Caleb’s elderly uncle. The man was well into his eighties and he suffered from palsy – a muscle condition that caused uncontrollable tremors. Molly looked between her friend’s uncle and the soldier several times. After a moment, it all began to click.

A week earlier, Captain Simcoe had questioned her about relatives of Ben and Caleb. Lucas Brewster’s name was brought up. At the time, Simcoe had dismissed the elder’s name. But now here he was.

Lucas Brewster had apple trees on his estate. That was one way he still made an income. As far as Molly knew, Lucas was selling his apple harvest to the King’s Army. That meant only one thing…

“Is the owner here? DeJong?” the soldier asked.

“No, but I can get him.” Anna replied hesitantly.

Small tremors wracked Lucas as he stood there.

“Whatever they said I did, it's not true.” He rasped.

“That's enough out of you.” The soldier snapped. He addressed Anna next, “Tell him we're taking his cellar as a temporary jail. Orders of the major. I need you to open it.”

Anna nodded and she led the soldier and Lucas down to the cellar. Both Anna and Lucas gave Molly a confused look as they passed.

 _This is bad_. Molly thought. She didn’t know much, but she was sure of one thing: Captain Simcoe was behind this.

* * *

She decided to visit Reverend Tallmadge the next morning.

“Morning.” He greeted as she stepped passed him and into the house.

“Morning.” She parroted.

He knew why she was there. He began preparing two cups of tea while Molly made herself comfortable at the kitchen table.

“You’ve heard then?” she asked.

She found herself fidgeting in her seat.

“Of course, I heard.” The Reverend replied.

Besides Molly, the Brewsters were the only ones left in town who regularly visited Mr. Tallmadge. He had lost many of his friends years ago when politics drew them apart.

“Something’s very wrong here.” Molly shook her head.

“I agree.”

He placed the cups on the table. Molly snatched hers and started drinking. Although it scalded her tongue, she didn’t care. She was thirsty.

As soon as the Reverend began to take a seat, there was a knock on the door. He froze and he and Molly exchanged a glance. That was strange. Molly was the only one who ever visited him at his home. She watched the Reverend as he walked over to the front door. When he opened the door, three redcoats were standing there. One was Captain Simcoe.

“Mr. Tallmadge.” Simcoe said. “May we come in?”

Molly suddenly lost all interest in her tea.

“I suppose. Please, gentlemen.” The Reverend replied, ushering them inside.

The men quickly passed through the small entryway and walked into the kitchen. Simcoe winked at Molly when he caught sight of her.

Molly tried to muffle her gasp. That pretty much confirmed her suspicions; this was a scheme crafted by Simcoe.

“Please, make yourselves comfortable. Ms. Strong was actually just on her way out.” The Reverend gave Molly a wary look. He knew just as well as her that this was not a friendly visit. “How may I help you gentlemen?”

Before Molly could consider departing, Simcoe blurted out, “Where were you yesterday afternoon?”

Molly remained frozen in her seat.

“I was here, at my home.” the Reverend said hesitantly.

Simcoe was looking around the kitchen, pretending to be interested in the curtains that hung over one of the windows.

“Why do you ask?” the Reverend asked.

“Judge Woodhull has been shot.”

Simcoe said it so abruptly, Molly and the Reverend were having a difficult time processing the information.

“What?” they asked, the volume of their voices growing.

“Is he alright?” Molly demanded.

“Yes, he survived.”

“What happened?” the Reverend asked.

“Judge Woodhull was shot by a sniper in front of his estate yesterday afternoon. Yes, he survived… And we have reason to believe you may have been involved.” Simcoe said it so nonchalantly. He said the words as if he was ordering a drink at the tavern. The words meant nothing to him.

The Reverend was struggling to think of what to ask next. Instead of asking anything, he turned to Molly.

“Molly, please leave.” He said gruffly.

She stared at him for a second, then looked over at Simcoe. He was staring at her, a satisfied smirk tugging on his lips. She rose from her chair. As she crossed the kitchen to the front door, one of the soldiers followed behind her.

She turned back to look at Reverend Tallmadge. He had a bitter look in his eyes. As soon as she stepped outside, the soldier closed the door behind her. She was certain they would not allow her to reenter.

So many thoughts were going through her head. She didn’t bother waiting for a carriage to pass so she could get a ride back into town. She started walking. She took a shortcut back into town, through the woods. She hadn’t taken a walk in the woods in a long time. It was typically too dangerous for people to go wandering alone. She didn’t care though. She needed to clear her head.

She kept blaming herself. _It’s my fault. It’s my fault._

It appeared that Simcoe had shifted his attention away from destroying Abe’s reputation. He had now singled _her_ out. And this was how he had chosen to torture her.

When she got back to the tavern, she heard word of Major Hewlett’s order: All citizens were to surrender their guns to the King’s Army.

* * *

The soldiers claimed it was so the Major could fully investigate Judge Woodhull’s shooting. Molly knew better, though. Without their guns, she and her neighbors would be completely at the mercy of the King’s Army. They would have to rely on them for protection instead of themselves.

Anna and Molly had kept one of Selah’s guns when they were kicked out of Strong Manor. The Major had allowed it, despite the attainder. So, the next morning, Molly took Selah’s shotgun and carried it up to the church. She was waiting in line when Reverend Tallmadge stepped into line behind her.

"What happened?” she asked in a hushed tone.

“The Captain questioned me for maybe a half-hour. He said that the he had reason to believe that I shot Richard Woodhull.” His tone was not calm like it usually was, he sounded bad-tempered.

“How can they accuse you? What evidence do they have?”

“The Captain claims that they found the burnt remains of a Bible page near where the shooting occurred.”

She swore aloud.

“Molly.” The Reverend warned.

She sighed, “Sorry.”

They had moved up in the line as they whispered to one another. They could now hear what Major Hewlett was saying to each citizen. The Major was sat at a small table, making a note as each person surrendered their gun.

“State your name.” Hewlett said.

“Walter Havens.”

“Havens. One blunderbuss.” Hewlett repeated his surname and the model of his gun.

Walter Havens did not step out of line, though.

He stayed to say, “The rebel whaleboats are ranging further up the coast. Without my shot, they'll take my catch.”

Hewlett did not look up from his paperwork, “Your weapon will be returned to you when I'm reassured the town is once again safe.”

“Safe for whom?” Havens asked.

Hewlett shot him a glare, and Havens made his way out of line and back down the hill into town. Abraham was the next person in line.

“Oh, this is hardly necessary in your case, Abraham.” Hewlett commented.

“The law applies to me the same as anyone else, sir.” Abe replied placing his gun in the pile beside the Major.

Molly was next.

“State your name.”

She rolled her eyes, but answered, “Molly and Anna Strong.”

“Strong. Spanish musket.”

She placed her gun on the pile and stepped to the side. She planned to walk down the hill with the Reverend.

“State your name.”

“You know who I am.” The Reverend replied.

Hewlett repeated, “State your name.”

“Nathaniel Tallmadge.” A beat. “This is my church that you now call your stables.”

He had Hewlett’s attention now.

“I think it suits the town better as a defensive fortification rather than a pulpit for seditious sermons.” The Major commented. “A fine fowling piece.” He was referring to the gun.

“If you say so.”

He placed his gun on the pile.

"But what does a man of the cloth need weapons for?” Hewlett continued, “Are we now practicing the insurrection that we preached?”

Molly saw the Reverend clench his fist. While the church was still him, Mr. Tallmadge would often include his Whig values into sermons. It was never explicitly political, but the townspeople knew what he was referencing.

“I never minded fighting for a just cause. Or speaking against an unjust one. ‘For all they that take the sword shall perish by the sword’.” The Reverend quoted.

With that, he turned and walked with Molly down the hill, away from his church.

* * *

When they reached the bottom of the hill, Molly began to make her way back to tavern. She needed to finish her shift. To her surprise, the Reverend followed behind her. 

“I need a drink.” He mumbled.

She glanced back at him in surprise.

He chuckled. “Don’t tell Benjamin. It’ll be out secret.”

She laughed despite herself.

When they entered the tavern, it was filled with the men who had just surrendered their guns. Like the Reverend and Molly, they were troubled by the Major’s order. While they talked in hushed voices, Anna was busy serving drinks. Molly went behind the bar to retrieve her apron.

“Now they've taken our guns, we're at their mercy.” One of the men blurted.

Molly looked up.

Mr. Yancy cut in, “You mean the mercy of the rebels like the one they've got locked up down below. Figures that it's a Brewster.”

Caleb’s brother-in-law was stood there with a drink in his hand. His expression darkened.

“I'm married to a Brewster.”

The two men began to bicker.

Molly grabbed a rag and quickly filled a mug. She handed the mug to the Reverend and then began wiping down the recently vacated tables. The men’s voices filled the tavern, but Molly couldn’t make out a single conversation. It was all jumbled, and the noise quickly became background noise for her as she worked.

“Enough.”

She looked up. That was the Reverend’s voice. The other men quieted down to hear what he had to say.

“Whatever our grievances, we have more in common with each other than we do with those men perched like vultures up on that hill.” The Reverend said. “First, they took our church. Then they took our headstones. Now the means to defend ourselves? What will they take next?”

Several of the men pounded their fists on the table.

“Hear, hear!” they agreed.

“Hear, hear. Don't you see who your real enemies are?” the Reverend said, his voice rising.

Molly watched in horror as Captain Simcoe entered the tavern with two other soldiers. All the men began silent.

“Spoken like a true rebel.” Simcoe said. He had a menacing look in his eyes. “Might we have a word, Reverend Tallmadge?”

The Reverend said nothing. He glanced over at Molly, and his expression hurt to look at. He looked defeated. He complied and allowed the soldiers to lead him out of the tavern.

* * *

That evening, a soldier returned with the Reverend. His hands were bound just like Lucas Brewster’s were. The soldier led him downstairs to the cellar, where he was to be imprisoned until his trial.

Molly absentmindedly finished her shift. The only thought on her mind was sneaking down to the cellar after closing and speaking with the Reverend and Lucas. She paid close attention to how the cellar was being guarded. So far, it appeared that there was only a soldier stationed at the outside entrance. So, she waited.

Anna retired upstairs to their room while Molly went around the tavern dowsing the last of the lights. She stood in the center of the tavern, in the darkness for several minutes and just listened. She was alone.

With her key in hand, she slowly made her decent down the staircase. It somehow managed to become darker as she got closer to the cellar. She unlocked the cellar door and slipped inside.

“Mr. Tallmadge?” she whispered into the blackness.

She yelped in horror as she felt someone put a hand over her mouth and wrap an arm around her waist. She struggled for a moment, then froze as she recognized something pressed against her waist. It was the barrel of a gun.

All she could do was stand there and wait for her assailant to reveal themselves. She couldn’t see anything, she couldn’t speak. She was trembling and she was breathing heavily.

“Ms. Strong.”

She sharply inhaled as she felt her assailant’s warm breath on her neck. Her worst nightmares were coming true: The voice belonged was Captain Simcoe.

He kept his hand clamped over her mouth as he continued, “I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“Leave her be!” a voice broke through the blackness.

It belonged to Reverend Tallmadge.

“If you want to live to see your trial, you’ll do well to hold your tongue.” Simcoe snapped.

It became quiet in the cellar again.

“Ms. Strong… Molly… May I call you that?” He chuckled quietly. “I have been aware of your previous engagement for a long time.”

She whimpered as she felt his lips brush against the side of her neck. She screwed her eyes shut and tried to keep herself from bursting into tears. She was terrified.

“Did you truly believe that I just discovered that information the day we chatted? …No. But then again, you were so naïve. ‘No more traitors in Setauket’.” She felt his body rumble as he laughed, “What a foolish statement.”

He loosened his grip on her mouth slightly.

“What is it you want?” she asked quietly.

She gasped as he pushed her to the side. Her back was against the door to the cellar, his hand was now grasping her jaw, and he pressed his gun harder into her stomach. It was going to leave a bruise.

“I want you to see the truth.” He was mocking her.

She whimpered; his face was mere inches in front of hers.

“I-I-I,” she stammered, “I have always proven myself loyal… to the Crown.” Her voice cracked slightly.

“I know Molly. But you see, I do not believe you.” His nose was pressed against hers now. “Your loyalty makes it extremely difficult to prove your guilt. But your acquaintances, and your fiancé’s acquaintances have not proven themselves loyal… Do you understand?”

She tried to nod, but his hand gripping her face made it difficult to do so.

“Good.” A beat. “Now run along, dear Molly. Sweet dreams.”

He released her and stepped back.

In that moment, Molly forgot any compassion she had towards Lucas Brewster and Reverend Tallmadge. She tripped over herself as she burst through the doors to the cellar and scrambled up the stairs.

She collapsed in a heap at the top of the stairs and burst into tears. She hugged her knees to her chest and pressed herself against the wall. She was shaking so bad that she couldn’t get to her feet. As she sat there and cried, she also knew that Simcoe was still in the darkness, at the bottom of the stairs, listening to her.

* * *

As soon as dawn broke, Molly was pounding on the front door to Abraham Woodhull’s house. She continued knocking until someone finally answered the door. She was disappointed to find Ensign Baker standing in front of her.

“Ms. Strong.” He sounded surprised.

After what happened last night, any ill feelings she had towards Baker were forgotten. His betrayal was nothing in comparison to Captain Simcoe’s entire being.

“I’m here to see Abraham.” She replied, ignoring pleasantries.

“Mr. and Mrs. Woodhull are at Whitehall.”

Molly swore aloud.

“Can you give me a ride?”

Baker seemed taken aback by her abruptness. He stared at her for a second, and then nodded his head hesitantly.

* * *

The second they reached Whitehall, Molly leapt out of the carriage and hurried up the front steps.

“I’m here to see Abraham Woodhull.”

One of the soldiers led her inside and had her stay in the foyer while they found Abraham. She stood there for one a few minutes, but every minute passed by agonizingly slowly. She tapped her foot impatiently.

She heard movement and looked up the stairs. Mary was starting to make her way down.

“Molly. What do we owe the pleasure?” she asked.

“I’m here to see Abe.”

Mary’s smile faded and she paused.

“Oh. I’ll fetch him.”

She turned and walked back upstairs. Abe walked down the stairs a few moments later.

“Molly, you want to see me?” he clarified.

“I need to speak to you… privately.”

He looked confused, but he motioned for her to follow him into his father’s sitting room. They took a seat in the armchairs. Although they had never spoken about it, Molly and Abe were both aware of whose side they were on. They were similar in that way. They were both trying to pose as loyalists.

Molly wasted no time getting to the point. “Have you heard about Ben’s father and Caleb’s uncle?”

Formalities were unneeded here.

“I did.”

There was a slight strain in Abe’s voice. It was almost as if he was wary about saying more.

“Have you heard about the petition?” Abe countered, lowering his voice.

Molly lowered her voice as well, “What about it?”

“Moses Paine came forward yesterday and _gave_ the petition to Hewlett.”

Molly looked down at the floor, trying to process the information.

“I thought they destroyed copies of the petition.”

“They did. Moses had the original.”

Molly swore under her breath.

Abe continued, “They’ve already begun arresting those who signed who are still in town.”

Molly remembered when the petition was being circulated around town. She had wanted to sign, but she wasn’t allowed to because she was a woman. At the time, she had been angry, but now she thanked God she had not signed it.

She also remembered, “But your name is on that petition, Abe.”

Abe sighed, “My father and Hewlett both agree that my loyalties have shifted since then.”

That was the reason why Molly and Abe’s had drifted apart over the years. His father was always making exceptions for Abe, then condemning everyone else. And Abe never fought against his father’s exceptions.

Molly looked at her friend for a moment. “Abe, those men will hang. You father will find them all guilty.”

A small smirk tugged on Abe’s lips.

“No, he won’t. My father isn’t well enough to represent any of the accused. So I’ve volunteered to do it.”

Molly scowled.

“Oh, I see, so it’s better if _you_ condemn our friends to hang.” Sarcasm was dripping from her mouth. “Besides, you’re not even a lawyer.”

“No, no, Molly.” Abe leaned forward in his seat, “I know, but I did study law, and I’ve convinced Hewlett to let me represent them… The charges against Lucas Brewster and Nathaniel Tallmadge are false. Simcoe has created the threat. All I have to do is present the case and then just see it fall apart.”

Molly felt a wave of relief. It wasn’t just her; Abe knew this was all a part of Simcoe’s elaborate plan.

“You're planning on losing?” she asked in surprise.

He nodded. She sat there for a moment and chewed on her bottom lip as she thought.

“When is the trial?” she finally asked.

“Two days.”

* * *

Molly was antsy for the next two days. The whole town was. The men who had signed their names to the petition were arrested over the last two days. Molly heard rumors at the tavern that Walter Havens and George Williamson had fled town to evade arrest. And then, it was finally time for the trial.

That morning, Anna and Molly walked up the hill to the church together. Molly tried not to stare at the soldiers as they constructed gallows. It made her feel dizzy. Although she trusted Abe, she did not trust Hewlett – who would be acting as Judge during the trial. Molly also noticed Moses Paine in the stockade. It didn’t matter that he had betrayed his neighbors to save his own skin, the redcoats were still enacting some form of punishment for him. _There was always a catch_.

They found seats at the back of the church and waited for the rest of their neighbors to pile into the church, to watch the trial. Everyone in the church was talking in hushed voices. Abe, Simcoe, and Hewlett were all at the front of the church, where Reverend Tallmadge used to preach. To one side sat the accused: Reverend Tallmadge, Lucas Brewster, and the eight remaining men in town who had signed their names to the petition.

As soon as Major Hewlett banged his gavel, the church became silent. Anna reached out and held Molly’s hand. They were both nervous.

Major Hewlett said a few words, and then Abe began with his opening statement.

“These men betrayed our trust.” Abe said. “These men plotted murder. These men conspired. Now, what is the nature of conspiracy? What defines it? Secrecy. Betrayal. The conspirator walls himself from friend and neighbor and he lives a secret life, pretending to be a part of the God-fearing community of man, the community of laws and of shared values, even as he plots its overthrow. Now, the evidence against these men is clear. Of their guilt, there is no doubt. But it is their salvation that we are about today. Only by their confession can they repent their sins and, in return, solicit a measure of our mercy.”

Molly found herself cringing at every word he said. She knew it was all a part of his plan though.

“Lucas Brewster,” Abe continued, “stand and face the bench.”

One of the soldiers helped Lucas Brewster rise to his feet. The old man was shaking with his tremors especially bad this morning.

“Do you swear to tell the truth, the truth being your only defense against these charges against you?” Abe asked.

Lucas looked around the church hesitantly, “All right. I... I suppose I... Yes. Yes, I do.”

“Did you conspire with Nathaniel Tallmadge and these other men to assassinate Major Hewlett and Judge Richard Woodhull?”

“No.” Lucas replied. He sounded confused as to why he was even being accused. “Of course not.”

Many of the townspeople lightly chuckled at Lucas’ response. He said it to matter-of-factly.

“And yet this vial of cyanide poison was found in your house.” Abe said, lifting a small vial up for the audience to see.

Lucas nodded, “Those redcoats claim they found it. It's nothing of mine.”

“Mr. Brewster, it is pointless to impugn the words of these good men. These are officers. They are sworn to protect us, and they have earned our trust.”

“Yeah, and what about my word?”

“Your word?” Abe scoffed. “The word of a _poisoner_? The lowest form of assassin? He who strikes like a viper from the shadows, too fearful to face his enemy? Your word, sir?”

Lucas nodded, “These are lies cooked up by them.”

“Why would they lie?” Abe said, his voice rising. “What possible motive would they have?”

Lucas shrugged, “Damned if I know.”

“You conspired against the Crown! You provided aid, and you provided comfort to the enemy!” Abe declared.

“No, no.”

Although he was shaking, Lucas’ voice did not waver. He was clearly becoming agitated though.

“You tried to murder these men...”

“No, no!”

“And you tried to kill my father!”

Lucas’ shaking became even worse. One of the women in the audience jumped to her feet.

“Leave the poor man alone! Can't you see he's sick?” she cried.

There was a murmur of agreement among the crowd. Hewlett banged his gavel again, silencing the crowd.

“Mr. Brewster may be seated.” Hewlett ordered, “We will resume when order is restored.”

Abe paused for a moment to compose himself for his next cross-examination. After a minute, Reverend Tallmadge was asked to stand, and Abe held up a Bible for the crowd to see. 

Reverend Tallmadge was being accused of shooting Judge Woodhull. The burnt remains of a Bible page were found near Whitehall after Judge Woodhull was shot. The redcoats believed that the Reverend had used a page from the Bible as wadding in his musket – wadding as in a paper fuse of sorts that was used to help ignite the gunpower in a gun.

“A page torn from a Bible to help propel a bullet.” Abe began. “A bullet that nearly ended my father's life. A page from Judges to help kill a judge. Do you deny it?”

The Reverend remained calm, “Deny a page was torn from it, no, but not by my hands.”

“If not yours, Mr. Tallmadge, then whose?”

“That man visited me with one of his men to ask questions.” He gestured towards Captain Simcoe. “I'm guessing when my back was turned...”

Abe cut him off, “I suppose you also credit Captain Simcoe with firing the round, despite the fact that he was with myself and my father at the time of the shooting. But where were you?”

“In my home.” The Reverend admitted.

Abe scoffed, “And can any here testify to that?”

“I was alone.”

“Of course. You were alone.” Abe said mockingly. “You've been alone for some time now, haven't you? Because of the choices that you've made, preaching rebellion until your congregation walked away.”

“Your father walked away.” Mr. Tallmadge snapped, “The rest followed like sheep.”

“Because their shepherd went astray!” Abe erupted. “And where did that leave you? Abandoned and angry, and at one man in particular. So you went way beyond sermonizing, didn't ya? Huh? Colluding with all of these men to overthrow the powers that you blamed for destroying your life!”

Molly could see the anger rising in the Reverend.

“You preach against me in my own church?” he hissed.

“Well, then repent. Just repent and silence me.” Abe countered.

“How dare you, boy?” the Reverend growled.

“I dare because I'm the son of the man that you almost killed. You were well-equipped for the task as well, weren't you? I remember the war stories you told when I was a boy. His years fighting the French and the Iroquois. This is your musket, is it not?”

Abe went over to where the Reverend’s musket was laid out on a table.

“I don't deny the weapon's mine, but I deny I used it against your father or any man. I swore an oath after that war never to take another life.” Mr. Tallmadge explained.

“I see that you cannot be induced to confess. Shall I then show these good people how you used musket and ball together so shamefully?”

Abe picked up the musket.

“First, the primer, yes?” Abe demonstrated, “And then the firing charge. Then the ball that was extracted from my father's body.” He held the bullet up for the crowd to see. “And then to ram it home, just a...”

Abe tried to drop the bullet into the barrel of the gun, but it wouldn’t slide in. He struggled for a moment.

Captain Simcoe spoke up, “It seems our farmer-turned-barrister is in need of some assistance. Allow me.” He walked over and Abe handed him the musket. “Allow me. Ball?” Abe handed him the bullet next.

Simcoe removed the ramrod from under the barrel of the musket and tried to ram the bullet into the gun’s barrel. His cocky expression faded in an instant. Despite using the ramrod, the bullet would not go into the barrel. The crowd gasped in shock.

Molly found herself struggling to hide a smile. This was what Abe had been telling her about.

“I'm guessing you've never seen a Pennsylvania rifle, Captain.” Reverend Tallmadge spoke up, “The barrel's grooved. It takes a smaller round than your Brown Bess. That one you're trying to jam down her muzzle, the one our young Hotspur here says almost killed his father, well, that's a musket round. The kind a king's man might use if he was bent on murder.” He paused and then told Abraham, “After hearing all my war stories, I'm surprised you didn't know that, boy.

Hewlett quickly banged his gavel again. He looked deeply disturbed by the error with the bullet.

“That is enough evidence for today.” He declared. “I will now retire and consider my ruling.”

Reverend Tallmadge scoffed, “You have no right to sit in judgment.”

“No?” Hewlett asked. “I am the authority here.”

Mr. Tallmadge’s expression darkened, “The only authority I recognize is that of God's, and you, sir, are not He.”

Molly found herself sinking lower into her seat. Reverend Tallmadge rarely lost his temper, but when he did, it was very intimidating. She remembered when she was a child and she and Caleb had broken a window at Reverend’s house. The man’s entire demeanor changed. He never lashed out physically, but his words cut deeper than anything he could’ve done.

Abe was aware of this too. He tried to stop Mr. Tallmadge, “Reverend, I believe this proceeding...”

“No, no, no.” Hewlett spoke up. “It's all right. Let him speak. This will be his last sermon.”

The Reverend stood in front of his church once more, in the place he used to preach. He turned his back to Hewlett and Simcoe and Abe, and he addressed the crowd.

“A man may believe in freedom from tyranny and not be rebel or a traitor. If he is not free to make up his own mind, that is the worst form of tyranny.” He said.

“Hear, hear.” The crowd agreed.

The Reverend continued, “These men were sent here to subjugate us. But I never would've expected the boy who grew up best friends with my son Benjamin to turn against his own.” He turned to look at Abe. “Abraham, what did you do that day your father walked out of my church? You stayed behind.”

Molly looked down. She remembered that day. Ben and Caleb had already left for the war. It was a few weeks before Major Hewlett arrived and commandeered the church.

“You thought for yourself. A lesson for us all.” The Reverend concluded.

Hewlett’s expression was filled with worry.

“That is enough. Silence!” he shouted. “Take the prisoners down. Take them down now, to the tavern cellar.”

The Reverend and Abe made eye contact with Molly simultaneously. She hated the looks they gave her. The Reverend’s was stoic and stubborn, and Abe’s was filled with guilt. If only she could tell the Reverend that they were all on the same side.

* * *

Abe came to see Molly later that day. They stepped out of the tavern to speak.

“Well?” Molly asked.

Abe lazily kicked the dirt by their feet. He wouldn’t look Molly in the eye for some reason.

“Hewlett agreed to a reduced sentence.”

Molly smiled, relieved with the news, “Thank God!”

“You didn’t let me finish.”

Molly’s smile disappeared. Abe finally looked up. He looked deeply troubled.

“Molly, Hewlett has sentenced them to the ten years aboard _the Jersey_.”

With that statement, Molly felt her heart shatter. It didn’t matter how hard Abe had worked to uncover the discrepancies in the case. Regardless, it was a death sentence…


	10. 1x10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Season 1 finale! get excited 👀

It had been two days since the trial. Reverend Tallmadge, Lucas Brewster, and the men who had signed the petition were due to be transferred to a prison ship within the next few days. Molly wanted nothing more than to speak with the Reverend. However, after what happened that night with Captain Simcoe, she didn’t dare go down to the cellar. She had been avoiding the Captain ever since.

It was morning, and Molly found herself outside the tavern, helping Mr. DeJong. Although he now owned the tavern, she rarely visited during business hours. He asked Molly to carry a stepladder outside. He had finally commissioned an artist to repaint the Strong Tavern sign. She set down the ladder and held it steady as the painter stepped up. It was old, and she feared it would wobble, sending the painter falling to the ground. Thankfully it held, and she was able to step back.

“No need to alter the ship.” DeJong instructed. “I like it. Just change the first three letters.”

Molly stood there for a moment as she watched the man paint over the S, T, and R on the sign. To her, that made it official: the tavern was no longer Selah’s.

She was about to go back inside when she recognized the people in a nearby wagon. It was Abe and Mary. A curious smile tugged at her mouth. Mary rarely came into town. Molly made her way over to the couple.

“Mary, what brings you into town?” she asked.

Abe hopped out of the wagon and turned to take Thomas from Mary, so she could step down as well. Before Mary had a chance to reply, a rider raced past the wagon. His horse was running at full speed through town. Everyone in the street turned to watch him.

“I thought I’d come into town and help Abe with the shopping.” Mary finally responded once on the ground. “I think it’ll be good for Thomas and me to get out of the house.”

Molly directed her next question to Abe, “How is your father doing?”

Abe shrugged, and Mary responded before he could, “He was still doing well when I saw him yesterday evening. He seems to be recovering nicely.”

Molly did not ask because she necessarily cared about the Judge’s health. She was just being polite. They conversed for a few more minutes, and that’s when Molly noticed that Abe was no longer paying attention to her words. He was looking past her at the tavern. She allowed her words to trail off and turned around.

Captain Simcoe was marching towards the tavern with three redcoats in tow. He ordered that the outside entrance to the cellar be opened, and he and his men descended the stairs.

“What do you suppose they’re up to?” Abe wondered aloud.

After a few moments, Simcoe and his men ascended from the cellar, leading the prisoner into the daylight.

The three of them were now invested in what was happening. It seemed too strange to be a coincidence. First a rider hurried through town, and a few minutes later, Simcoe was securing the prisoners. They saw him shout something to the other soldiers nearby, but they couldn’t make out his words. He then began to march the prisoners up the hill towards the church.

“Are they already being transferred?” Molly asked, turning back to look at her friends.

Abe looked just as confounded as she felt.

“Perhaps, but…”

“But what?” Mary asked.

“It’s just… It’s just strange is all.” Abe replied.

They stood there for a moment. Then Molly said, “I’ll let you get on with your errands. Stop by the tavern before you leave.”

Mary and Abe told her that they would, and they went their separate ways. As soon as she was back inside the tavern, Molly found Anna.

“Did Captain Simcoe say what his purpose was for taking the men out of the cellar?”

Anna finished filling a mug with ale as she responded, “No idea. He just told the soldiers to open the cellar. He didn’t say anything else.”

Molly stood by the bar for a moment, trying to think of a proper explanation. Perhaps they were transferring the prisoners after all? It made her sad that she never got a chance to say goodbye to Reverend Tallmadge, but she shook off the feeling. She was still on the clock.

* * *

She carried on with her work at the tavern, thinking nothing more on the matter. However, Molly soon regretted that decision. Soon after, she heard shouting and guns firing outside. There were only a few customers in the tavern. They all froze and exchanged looks among each other. Anna and Molly met each other’s gaze.

 _What was that?_ Both silently asked each other.

The customers jumped from their seats as everyone in the tavern scrambled out to see what was happening. They heard more gunshots when they stepped outside. Molly noticed some townspeople looking and pointing towards the hill. She didn’t get a chance to look though. A few moments later, men dressed in military uniforms began to stream through the streets. They weren’t redcoats. Their coats varied from shades of bright blue to shades of brown. Everyone knew in an instant who they were: It was the rebels. They were seizing the town.

The next few minutes were chaos. As the townspeople began to realize what was happening, they began to panic. Women screamed and men tried to run away and escape capture. Molly and Anna remained where they were standing though. Unlike their neighbors, they were frozen in shock, not fear.

Molly watched as the rebels leveled their muskets at the townspeople. The men were shouting orders back and forth, but she couldn’t keep up with all their words. She gasped when she felt the barrel of a gun pressed into her side. She whipped her head to see her assailant.

She was speechless for there stood Caleb Brewster. Anna was looking at him as well.

“Get a move on ladies!” He demanded, gesturing for them to move away from the buildings and move into the center of the town square.

Caleb gave them a reassuring wink as he kept his pistol pressed into Molly’s side.

Soon, all the people in town and what redcoats who were on sentry duty were crowded together. A few rebels stood around the group, making sure no one tried to attack them or escape. The people chattered nervously. Some were displaying their fears that they were going to be killed, others were just speaking out of utter confusion. It appeared that the rebels were just waiting for further orders.

“Are you alright?” It was Ensign Baker. He had pushed his way through the crowd to stand beside her. He was one of the soldiers that had been rounded up with the townspeople. Molly did not respond. She just looked up at him, squinting as the sun briefly blinded her. She did not care that they were in a dangerous situation. She was still angry with him.

Baker looked at her for a moment, then turned away. He stood in silence beside the Strong women. Molly and Anna didn’t speak to one another. They were both busy trying to take in everything.

 _Was this planned?_ Molly wondered. She kept looking over at Anna, but her sister-in-law looked just as perplexed as their neighbors. Abe’s expression was the same. Clearly Abe and Anna had not known about this attack. Molly kept trying to look at Caleb and make eye contact. He kept avoiding her gaze though.

Finally, Molly understood why Caleb wouldn’t look at her. She noticed several soldiers in blue and gold cavalry uniforms making their way from the hill to where they were in the center of town. Out of them all, she recognized one man and kept her eyes trained on him as he neared the crowd. It was Benjamin Tallmadge.

She watched him wide-eyed, with her mouth slightly agape. Out of all the things that had happened that day, seeing Ben again was the furthest thing from her mind.

She tried to take in his appearance. His hair was longer, but other than that he looked the same as when he had left Setauket. And then there was his uniform. She had never seen him in anything besides civilian clothes. He looked so different done up in blue and gold. He looked older and more serious.

As he walked nearer, their eyes locked for a second, but just for a second. She could see the recognition and the surprise in his eyes as well. But as soon as they saw each other, he averted his gaze and stopped in front of Caleb. They were close enough to the crowd, so Molly could make out what they were saying.

“The town's ours.” Caleb reported.

“They've taken the captives to the church.” Ben said.

Caleb’s expression fell.

“Shite.”

Ben looked over at the crowd briefly, then turned back to Caleb. “Search every door and get everyone inside the tavern. All right. And remind the men that no private property is to be destroyed.”

No sooner had the words left Ben’s mouth that the sound of a single gunshot pierced through the air.

Everyone turned to see where it originated from: the rebels and townspeople alike. The newly painted tavern sign creaked as it swayed back and forth. There was a bullet hole in the center of the sign. A rebel soldier was stood underneath the sign, his musket still aimed at the sign. When he lowered his gun, Molly nearly fell over. It was Selah Strong.

He was very much alive. He tossed his musket to one side and his hat to the other as he approached the crowd. Molly watched as he bent down and captured Anna’s mouth in a kiss. Anna stood there stiffly. She was also in shock. He quickly pulled away and embraced Anna in a hug.

Selah kept a hand on Anna’s arm as he released her and and smiled at Molly. She returned his smile. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes as she leapt forward and hugged her brother harder than she ever had before.

* * *

The townspeople and the redcoats were all crowded inside the tavern. A few rebel soldiers stood near the entrance; their muskets held at the ready. To the far side of the tavern, the redcoats – Baker included – were being forced to sit on their knees. Several rebels stood around them, stopping them from trying to regain any sort of control. Several of the locals gave the rebels nasty looks, and the rebels stood there and returned their glares with unyielding looks.

Molly had gotten over her shock from being reunited with Selah. She didn’t care how it happened. She was just happy he was alive. But they couldn’t talk now. He had orders to follow: Ben’s orders. She still couldn’t believe that any of this was happening. Ben was here, Caleb was here, Selah was here. After so many months, so many years of uncertainty, Molly finally felt as if things were starting to go her way.

She kept trying to look at Anna to see her reaction, but Anna seemed more troubled than excited by the return of their friends. Molly knew there was something more to all of this. Anna still had secrets.

It had been silent in the tavern for much time, but then Thomas’ cries pierced through the air. Abe rocked his son in his arms, trying to calm him. “It's all right. It's all right. Shh, shh. It's all right. Come on.” Abe cooed softly.

“Would you please shut that thing up?” It was John Robeson who lashed out.

Everyone ignored Robeson’s outburst.

Selah stepped out from behind the back room right around then, to exit the tavern. As he passed the table where Maarten DeJong sat, DeJong spoke up, “May I offer your men some ale?”

Selah came to halt. He whipped around to face DeJong; his expression filled with anger.

“May _you_ offer?” he demanded. He shoved the man sitting beside DeJong out of his chair and Selah took a seat. “This is my tavern, DeJong. I built it, I own it.”

“And your wife sold it to me.” DeJong replied. His words sounded confident, but his face revealed how scared he truly was.

Selah turned to look at Anna.

“I had no choice.” Anna explained. “They were going to take it anyway.”

“She had no right to sell it.” Selah argued, turning back to DeJong. “The agreement is not binding.”

DeJong shrugged. He looked as if he regretted bringing up the matter. “I did not write the attainder. Take it up with Judge Woodhull.”

“Oh, I will, trust me.” Selah growled. “I have plenty to settle with the judge.”

Molly remained silent, but only because she was silently relishing everything. She had wanted to tell off DeJong so many times before, but she had held her tongue.

Suddenly a huge explosion shook the tavern. Everyone, the rebels included, shouted out in surprise. As soon as the shaking stopped, everyone sat there in silence again, trying to absorb what just happened.

A few seconds later, Ben and Caleb stepped into the tavern. Robeson jumped to his feet the second he saw them.

“Hey. Will you burn your hometown now, Tallmadge?” he spat.

“It's the king's men who are burning it,” Ben replied, calmly. “but take heart, we'll have them out soon enough.”

Selah drew his dagger and stepped forward to meet Robeson. Molly gasped as Selah pressed the blade against Robeson’s throat.

“Why don't you hold your tongue, Robeson? Before you lose it?” Selah growled.

“Selah.” Ben warned.

Selah gave Robeson one last glare and then turned to face Ben. The two men spoke for a moment in hushed voices. Then Selah said, “Come with me.” And one of the rebel soldiers followed him out of the tavern.

As soon as Selah stepped outside, Abraham rose to his feet.

He cleared his throat, “Benjamin… The major isn't firing on us, he's firing on you. Now, whatever you boys came here to prove, I think you've proved it. But I'm telling you right now, you will never take that garrison. All you're gonna do is get all these people killed, all right?”

Ben gave a faint smirk. He almost looked amused. Then he turned to look at Mary and Thomas.

“Is that your wife, Woodhull? And your son?” he asked.

“Yes, it is, yeah.”

Ben and Caleb were already gone when Abraham’s brother had his accident. They never met Mary. 

“Hmm.” Ben addressed Mary next, “It's very fine to meet you, Mrs. Woodhull. I seem to remember your husband as a much quieter man.”

* * *

Nearly an hour passed. Molly was wracking her brain trying to think of an excuse to speak privately with Ben. There was so much she wanted to tell him, to ask him. She couldn’t think of anything to justify it though. Finally, she didn’t have to initiate a conversation. Ben walked over to where she was leaning against the bar.

“Ms. Strong?”

She perked up at the sound of her name, but she tried to hide her excitement.

“If it isn’t too much trouble, I’m sure everyone in here could use a drink.”

“Of course… It’s no trouble at all.” She replied.

She and Anna got to work filling mugs and passing them out to the loyalists and rebels alike. They worked in silence. When it came to it, Molly handed Ben a mug.

“Thank you.” He muttered.

He didn’t get a chance to take a drink though. Around that same time, one of his men hurried into the tavern and whispered something in his ear.

“Damn it!” he shouted, slamming his mug down on the nearest table. Ale sloshed onto the floor. “What kind of a commander uses prisoners as a barricade?”

He didn’t elaborate, but Molly could guess what had happened.

They must’ve tried to go around the church and wait to fire upon the church until they had higher ground. But before they could do much shooting, the redcoats had forced Reverend Tallmadge and the other prisoners to stand in front of the windows of the church, to stop the rebels from firing.

“It's likely Captain Simcoe.” Abe spoke up. “You may not know of him, but he's less subtle than the major.”

Ben ignored Abe’s comment and turned to Caleb, “They mean to hold out until reinforcements arrive.”

Caleb shrugged, “I figure we got till sundown to break them.”

“If that. You need to take another detachment and round on them from the east. Then I'll send forth terms for surrender. If we take the church, then we can use their cannons to defend against the next wave.”

“Hewlett will never surrender to you.” Abe blurted. “And Simcoe will shoot down any Continental who approaches the church and then he will kill your father and your uncle.”

Ben and Caleb both turned to glare at Abe.

“Well, maybe we'll use his men to shield us.” Caleb offered.

He stormed over to where the redcoats were on the floor and he grabbed Ensign Baker by the collar of his uniform. He pressed his pistol against Baker’s throat. Molly felt no empathy for the man.

“Leave him be!” Anna snapped. “If you say you're better than them, then show it by your restraint, Brewster.”

“The major is a fair man.” Baker agreed. “He will respect a flag of truce.”

Caleb shoved Baker back down and returned to Ben’s side.

“You said that Selah saw the magistrate inside the church.” Ben continued, trying to think of a new plan. He paused for a second then turned to Abe. “That means your father's there as well, Abe. Whatever happens to mine happens to yours, which makes you the perfect man to deliver our terms.”

He lightly elbowed Caleb.

“Let's take him somewhere private, huh?” Ben proposed.

Caleb went over to where Abe was sat, and he pulled him to his feet.

“No!” Mary exclaimed.

“Don't worry, ma'am.” Caleb replied. “It's all right. We need your husband to send a message. We're not gonna hurt him.” With that he punched Abe in the stomach. Abe doubled over in pain. “Not much anyways.” Caleb chuckled.

“Mrs. Strong, would you kindly open the cellar for us?” Ben asked.

And just like that, Ben, Caleb, Anna, and Abe all began to walk down to the tavern cellar. Molly knew she had to get down there.

There was much commotion after the assault on Abe, and the townspeople began to chat insistently. The rebel soldiers were looking around, trying to make sure that the people would remain calm and not try to lash out. It was in that moment when Molly realized that no one was paying any attention to her.

 _Now’s my chance_. She thought.

With one last look around the tavern, she quickly slipped into the back hallway that led to the cellar. She heard the cellar door close below, and she hurried down the stairs. She pressed herself against the cellar door for a moment.

She heard a small commotion, and then she heard Abe’s voice. “Ben, what the hell is this?”

Then Anna’s. She shushed them, “You want them to hear us up there?”

“Hey, I'm sorry.” She heard Ben, “I couldn't send warning. There was no time. It was only by God's good grace that we came across Walter Havens. He told us about the hangings.”

Havens was one of the men who signed the petition and fled town to evade arrest.

“There were no hangings.” Abe hissed.

“What?”

“Not till you showed up.” Abe explained. “I had convinced Hewlett to commute their sentences. They were bound instead for the Jersey.”

“Oh, the Jersey.” Caleb scoffed, “Cause that ain't a death sentence, is it?”

Molly had heard enough. She pushed open the cellar door.

“Apparently, it's not.” Molly said it louder than she intended.

She slipped into the room and leaned back against the now closed door.

All four of them were stood there in the middle of the cellar. They stared at her, and she could see the shock on all their faces.

“Molly.” Anna said hesitantly. “Is there a problem upstairs?”

“Stop.” Molly said, “I _know_.”

Her four friends exchanged a series of looks. Finally, all eyes were on Anna. Anna bit her lip in annoyance and turned to face her sister-in-law.

“How long have you known?” Anna asked.

Molly shrugged, “Since New Year’s.”

They all reacted in different ways. Anna swore, Abe ran a hand through his hair and began pacing, Caleb laughed aloud, and Ben looked up at the ceiling.

“Now someone better explain _what is going on here_?” Molly demanded.

Anna ignored her and continued to speak to Caleb, “I stood on the deck of that ship and had the warden tell me that Selah died there over Christmas. I have lived with that belief since last we were in New York spying for you. Surely you had time enough to warn me that my husband was alive and serving alongside you both.”

“Look... Anna, I'm sorry.” Ben cut in. “It was my decision. Caleb wanted to tell, you but I said no. The truth is, your husband is alive because my brother is dead. Robert Rogers used the promise of Samuel as bait to trap me.”

“Samuel is dead?” Molly asked. She stepped away from the door and into the circle where the rest of them stood.

Ben nodded, “Selah was with him when he passed.”

Molly bit her lip to keep from bursting into tears.

She and Samuel were closer friends than people realized. Women were not allowed to attend university, but when Samuel was studying, he used to send Molly copies of articles, papers, or books, anything he was studying for his courses. He knew how disappointed she was that she was not allowed to become further educated. So, he tried to help any way he could.

“So, I can confirm for you that, yes, the Jersey is a death sentence, and I will not see my father sent there.” Ben added.

“So...” Abe paused, “so this raid is family business? It's personal?”

“You saying you wouldn't do the same?” Caleb asked.

“No, no, I'm just saying it makes sense, is all.” Abe shrugged, “More sense than Washington sending you both here anyway.”

“So, you have met him?” Molly asked.

Caleb turned and smiled at her.

“Aye, we finally did, Moll.” Caleb grinned.

“What’s he like?”

“Still tall.” Caleb chuckled, “But I’ll tell you, he’s much more uptight than you’d think.”

Molly laughed, then continued listening to what Ben was saying, “He granted me discretion to advance my mission as I see fit.”

“Oh, I see.” Abe shook his head with disbelief. “So, you're gonna have to explain it all to him, then. Good. When you do, please inform 711 that his precious Mr. Culpepper is finished. I am out.”

Molly didn’t know what 711 or Mr. Culpepper meant, but she was sure it had something to do with the secret she was learning more about.

“Nobody is out.” Ben insisted.

Abe pointed a finger at Molly, “Yes I am! We’re kidding ourselves! We kept Molly in the dark on all of this, and she still figured it out!”

“Hold on a minute.” Molly replied, “You think it was easy for me to piece this together? I only know because of the letter Caleb sent me.”

Ben and Caleb looked at each other for a moment.

“You sent her a letter?” Ben asked.

“Yes, but I didn’t tell her anything.” Caleb protested, “All I did was tell her I was safe, and then I sent a letter to Annie to tell her your orders about not involving Moll.”

Anna’s eyebrows knitted together.

“Letter? What letter?” she asked.

Caleb and Ben were both looking at Molly again.

“You didn’t?” Caleb chuckled.

Molly didn’t bother answering. They all knew what she had done.

“Abe, listen to me.” Ben said, trying to take control of the conversation again, “Your standing in this town is intact and I intend to keep it that way.”

Abe shook his head. “I'm not a soldier in your army, Major.”

 _Major?_ Molly thought. She hadn’t heard word about his promotion.

“I don't have to take your orders.” Abe argued, “But you're right about one thing. My standing in this town is all you've got left. Now, I wasn't lying when I told you Hewlett would never surrender. And you know there's no chance that you take that church before some force on this island shows up.”

Caleb gave Abe a shove, “We ain't leavin' without our family, all right?”

“Well, then I guess today you take your orders from me.”

Molly looked around at the circle of her four friends. All they had done for the last several minutes was argue and bicker and admit that they did not trust one another. Suddenly, she began to wonder if she had made the right decision by revealing how much she knew.

* * *

Caleb brought Abe and Anna upstairs, but Ben wanted to speak with Molly alone. As soon as the cellar door was closed, Ben pulled her into a hug. Both of them closed their eyes, he buried his face into the crook of her neck, and she breathed in the smell of his uniform.

“What is going on here?” she asked, her voice muffled against him.

They pulled away, but Ben kept his hands on her arms.

“Molly.”

A small tingle ran through her body. She didn’t realize how much she liked it when he said her name.

He kept his voice low, “I am the Head of Intelligence, working directly under Washington’s orders.”

She knew what that meant. That meant that Ben oversaw espionage for the Continental Army. She stared at him. Although she understood, she wasn’t sure how to respond.

Noticing her hesitation, he continued, “I recruited Caleb, Caleb recruited Abe, and then Abe asked Anna for help.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Her voice had gone quiet. There was something off about his whole demeanor.

His eyebrows furrowed. The look he gave her almost said, _Why wouldn’t I tell you this?_

“Well, I think it’s important you know.” He said slowly. “Especially since you’re coming with us.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. It was finally safe for her to leave Setauket.

Originally, their plan was to elope and move to Philadelphia – the center of the rebellion and the home to the Continental Congress. Molly would live in the city while Ben was off at war. However, Ben changed their plans last minute. He began to worry about what would happen to Molly if he died or if the rebels lost the war – it was still the early days, and no one knew how evenly matched Washington would prove himself to be against the King’s Army. He told her that it would be far more dangerous if something happened and she was the widow of a rebel officer.

They decided that Ben would leave for the war and Molly would stay in Setauket and live with her brother. That was the safest place for her at the moment. And it had been a safe place for her, until Selah’s arrest and Captain Joyce’s murder.

“Be ready to depart when I return.” Ben continued.

She shook her head and put a hand to his chest.

“Wait. Wait.” She couldn’t believe the words were leaving her mouth. “Ben, I think I should stay here.”

He stared at her, taken aback.

“What?” he stammered, trying to make sense of it. “But-”

“Ben, I want to go with you… I really do. But…” She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “If I go with you now, I can’t help _here_.”

“What are you talking about? I was wrong, it’s not safe here anymore.”

“But it is for me.”

He was silent, waiting for an explanation.

“Listen, your father’s arrest, the trial, they were all part of some elaborate scheme of Captain Simcoe’s.” She knew from her time eavesdropping that Ben and Caleb had something to do with his disappearance. “He questioned me. He knows we were engaged, but he doesn’t believe I’m a loyalist.”

“You see!” Ben tried to interject.

“No, let me finish.” Molly said. “Simcoe told me that he wanted to stage my arrest as well. But he couldn’t. Don’t you see? He didn’t have any evidence to indict me.” She paused, “I have always proven myself loyal to the Crown.”

Ben was beginning to piece together her plan.

“And if you _don’t_ go with me…”

She nodded, “Then I only further prove my loyalty.”

Ben opened his mouth to say more but stopped himself. Molly wanted to say more too, but there was no time. When it came down to it, Ben hadn’t returned to Setauket to see her. He was here to save his father.

It was in that moment when they realized how close they were to each other. Then, without a word or a gesture, they closed the gap between them. Their lips pressed together into a rough kiss. They both quietly moaned into the kiss as his arms snaked around her waist and pulled her flush against him and one of her hands found its way to the back of his neck and the other grasped the collar of his coat, pulling him closer.

Then they pulled away, slightly out of breath. It had only been a few seconds, but Molly’s heart was beating at a rapid pace. She was trembling.

Ben cleared his throat, “I’ll be back soon… I promise.”

Molly exhaled sharply in amusement, “Just promise me it won’t be another two years.”

He quietly chuckled, then pressed his lips to hers once more. This kiss was brief, and then they pulled away from each other.

“Goodbye, Molly.”

“Goodbye, Ben.”

With that, he turned and hurried upstairs out of the cellar. Molly stood there, processing everything that had just happened. She was happy and sad at the same time. Although she was being left behind again, she didn’t feel so alone this time.

* * *

The rebels left town within the next hour. Abe’s plan worked. He walked to the church under the flag of truce and to negotiate with Major Hewlett. The agreement was that Hewlett would release the prisoners into the care of the rebels – this would successfully eliminate the issue of traitors living in Setauket.

The plan worked, but it was not flawless. Molly learned that Captain Simcoe was not satisfied with the compromise. He wanted to eradicate the rebels, not negotiate with them. In a fit of rage, he took Lucas Brewster outside the church and shot him dead… in from of Caleb and the other rebels.

Hewlett was outraged by Simcoe’s behavior, and he had his redcoats place Simcoe under arrest. Simcoe was going to face court-martial, and he was going to be sent far away from Setauket. Molly was relieved to learn of Simcoe’s fate, but she hated the circumstances surrounding it.

Then it was time for the rebels to return to their boats and leave the town.

“Aren’t you coming, Moll?”

Molly looked up at her brother. He wasn’t involved in any of this, so she couldn’t be honest about her reasons.

“I’m sorry.” Was all she said, her voice cracking.

He pulled her into a final hug, and then took Anna’s hand. Anna was going with him. Molly and her sister-in-law had not spoken since earlier in the cellar. They exchanged a last look, and then they were gone.

Molly stood outside the tavern and watched the rebels begin to head out. She watched her neighbors rejoice with their families at the rebels’ departure.

“Grab your haversacks and head for the boats.”

It was Ben. He was giving his men their final orders. He caught sight of her in the crowd. She didn’t see him though.

Ben didn’t know what to make of his ex-fiancée. She had changed much since they last spoke. Although he knew she was the same in many ways, it felt as if he was talking to a stranger. That’s how he knew she was playing her loyalist role well.

“Here.”

Molly jumped slightly as Abraham appeared beside her. He had his hand out, and he was holding a small scrap of paper.

“From the Major.” He shrugged, then he was off.

He quickly unfolded the paper and read what was scrawled on it.

_Dawn. Tuesday. Where Caleb showed you._

She read over the words over and over again. Finally, she looked up and tried to appear unphased. It looked like Ben was keeping his promise, she would never have to wait two years ever again.

* * *

That evening, the town was still recovering from the occupation earlier that day. Molly was mopping up spilled ale from the floor of the tavern. DeJong told her not to worry, but she refused. She could still feel the adrenaline coursing through her from earlier. The last thing she wanted was so stop working.

“Molly?”

Molly glanced up, and then froze where she stood. At the door to the tavern stood Anna Strong.

“Anna?” she asked. “What are you doing here?”

Anna glanced around to make sure they were alone. Then she approached Molly.

She said in a hushed tone, “The cause needs me here.” She gave a wink, and then began to walk upstairs to their shared bedroom.

Molly stood there, leaning against the handle of her mop. So Anna hadn’t gone with Selah. She had also chosen to stay behind. It was ironic how things had played out. She and Anna thought they had lost Selah. And now Selah had lost both his wife and his sister in the same day.

 _At least he’s with Ben_ , Molly thought. If anything, he was safer with the rebels than in Setauket.

Although Molly was involved now, there were still many secrets she wasn’t aware of. She just prayed that Anna’s secrets were secrets worth keeping.

* * *

Molly was awoken the next morning with news that there had been a fire. She quickly dressed and hurried across town to Whitehall. Abraham wouldn’t see her, so she spoke with Mary.

“What happened?” Molly asked.

So, Mary told her. Mary claimed that a handful of rebels hadn’t returned to the boats with Ben and his men. They had remained in town. The previous night, the remaining rebels had come to loot their farmhouse.

Mary told her friend about Ensign Baker’s bravery. He was killed by the rebels, and they proceeded to burn down the farmhouse. They would’ve killed Abe and Mary as well. But when they saw Thomas, they decided to let his parents live.

Molly listened intently, but she also didn’t believe a word Mary said. Her story didn’t make sense. Although she didn’t know what kind of a leader he was, she knew what kind of man Ben was. He would never stand for something like this.

Molly’s opinion didn’t matter though. As she listened, she realized that Abraham and Mary had their own secrets, just like Anna. But that didn’t change the fact that Ensign Baker was dead.

* * *

It was dawn on Tuesday. Molly made excuses for her absence and began to trek through the woods. She was alone. Although it was now Spring, the morning air was still biting cold, and she hugged her cloak around her body to keep from shivering.

She followed the directions on Ben’s note and arrived at the place where she had walked with Caleb all those months ago. When she arrived at the spot, there was a single rowboat. It was tied to a tree, and the boat was empty.

Before she had a chance to look around, she heard a familiar voice.

“Were you followed?”

She grinned as she turned to face Benjamin Tallmadge. He wasn’t in his uniform this time. He was dressed in civilian clothes.

“No.” she replied.

He responded with a broad smile spread on his face. They quickly closed the gap between them and embraced.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you for at least another year.” Molly joked.

He chuckled and motioned for her to join him on the ground. They sat side-by-side, and Ben began to take several things out of his satchel.

“I’m sorry this isn’t a personal visit.” He said, handing her a leather-bound book. “ _This_ is how I want you to write to me. Or Caleb.” He explained.

She opened the book and realized she was looking at a handwritten dictionary of sorts. She flipped through it. Each word correlated with a number.

“Is this-?” she began.

He nodded, “Aye, it’s our code. That was why I couldn’t write to you before.”

She continued to flip through it. She paused on one page that was filled with people and place names.

“We also use different names, so we aren’t discovered.”

He pointed out one of the names in the list. It read, “ _Bolton, John 721_ ”.

“See, that’s me.”

He pointed to another one, “ _Culper, Samuel 722_ ”

“That’s Abe.”

“Which one is me?” Molly asked.

When he hesitated to answer, she turned her eyes towards him and not the pages.

“Ben?” she asked.

He chewed on his lip for a moment, “Well, you see, you, Anna, and Abigail share a number… Washington doesn’t want women involved, but we’ve convinced him to trust the information from your shared number.”

Molly didn’t like that decision. She could say nothing to Ben though. It hadn’t been his decision.

“What number _are_ we?” she decided to ask.

He flipped back to the dictionary part of the book and pointed to a section. It read “lady 355”.

 _355_ , Molly said to herself. She was testing the sound of it in her head. After a moment, she decided she liked it.

Ben explained more about the codebook until all her questions had been answered. She could never send a letter directly to him. They would always be included in her reports to Washington. Abe and Anna would compile reports of their own.

It didn’t have to always be accurate information. They were encouraged to include any rumors they had heard as well. If they had not collected anything, they were still asked to include a general update, to let both Ben and Washington know what was happening in Setauket. 

Abe would leave the reports at a dead drop in the woods, and Caleb would come by regularly to check the dead drop, and possibly leave messages or updates for the rest of them.

“I’ve heard a rumor.” Molly said after he had finished.

He raised an eyebrow, “Yes?”

“Were any of your men unaccounted for a few days ago?”

Ben furrowed his eyebrows together.

“No. Why do you ask?”

Molly shrugged it off, “It’s nothing. I just heard a rumor that Mrs. Hawthorne claims that she saw rebels hiding out near her property.”

Molly had a reason for placing the blame on Mrs. Hawthorne. The woman was well into her eighties, and her vision was atrocious. Ben knew this.

She had now confirmed that Mary’s story had been false. However, Molly didn’t want to share the information with anyone. Mary was still her friend. Besides, Molly didn’t have all the facts yet. She didn’t mind having her own secrets for a while.

They both jumped and ducked down as they heard a branch snap behind them. It was just a rabbit. Although they were still alone, the sudden scare made Ben anxious to get out of Setauket. He packed up his bag and rose to his feet, then he helped pull Molly up.

“You’ll hear from me soon.” With that, he leaned in and kissed her on the lips.

She watched him as he hurried to his boat and began rowing away. She hugged her codebook to her chest as she watched him row out to sea.

 _It’s official_ , she thought. She was a spy for General Washington.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historians don't know exactly who 355 was; but, there's a couple of different theories. Historian Alexander Rose (who worked on the tv show), believes that 355 was probably just Anna Strong.
> 
> However, there are instances of the code number being used in other documents - implying that there was also a woman in New York City helping the ring. So, other historians think that 355 might have been multiple women. (Which is the route that the tv show went by having Anna and Abigail both be 355. But in the show they only ever refer to Abigail as 355 and they make Anna the "Signal of Setauket", but still... ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ )
> 
> I've decided to follow a similar approach by lumping Molly into the multiple women theory bc why not?


	11. 2x01

“Mary!”

Molly greeted her friend warmly as they reunited in the foyer. This was how it had been for quite some time. It had been two months since the rebels landed in Setauket, and it had been two months since the Woodhull’s farmhouse burned to the ground and Ensign Baker was killed.

Despite the circumstances, Molly was trying her hardest to stick to the timetable Benjamin explained to her. At least once a week, Molly would write a brief report – in code – including any rumors or solid information she or Anna overheard while in town. She would head off to Whitehall.

Molly’s excuse was to visit Mary. Sometime during her visit, she would pass her reports to Abe. Abe was then to compile those with his own report and then signal and leave the reports in the woods, where Caleb would collect them and send them off to Ben and General Washington.

At least, that had been Molly’s understanding…

For the last two months, Molly was certain that Abe had not compiled or passed along a single one of her reports. How did she know? Because she still had not received a letter from Ben. He promised to write to her, that’s why he supplied her with a copy of the codebook. And, yet, she had still heard nothing.

“Good morning!” Mary was smiling, but she also looked flustered. “I hope you’ll excuse me. I just need to put Thomas down for a nap.”

Thomas squirmed impatiently in his mother’s arms.

“I’ll be back.” She turned her head, “Father! Could you please entertain Molly for a moment?”

Mary affectionately referred to her father-in-law as ‘Father’. She gave Molly a quick smile and then hurried up the staircase.

Molly took a deep breath before making an appearance in the study. She found herself alone in the room with Judge Woodhull.

“Good morning.” He always sounded gruff with her. It didn’t matter how much time she seemed to spend with Mary. The truth was that the Judge just didn’t like her. However, the Judge’s reason for disliking her had shifted over the previous months.

Before, it was because of her family’s political beliefs. But, ever since the rebels came to Setauket, and ever since Molly stayed behind, the Judge was beginning to believe her to be a loyalist.

His dislike towards her now was strictly because of his memories of her. It was no secret that Molly had known Abe since childhood. However, as a child, Molly had been quite a troublemaker. Up to the age of twelve, Molly enjoyed causing havoc among her friends and neighbors alike.

She was always the first one to propose some dangerous adventure – such as a race to climb a tree in the woods, or sneaking onto neighbors’ properties and spooking their livestock, or sneaking into the woods at night. And she would get into fights with the other children. That was the Molly that Judge Woodhull remembered.

“Good morning, Mr. Woodhull.” She replied.

She took a seat in the armchair beside his. He was sitting with his feet stretched out towards the fireplace. He was doing better, but still recovering from his gunshot wound received two months ago.

“Good morning, Ms. Strong.” He replied. “Shall I have Aberdeen fetch you a drink?”

Aberdeen was one of the Judge’s slaves.

“No, thank you.”

Molly sank back in her armchair. This was how it typically was whenever she found herself alone with the Judge. They would exchange pleasantries and then sit in silence, waiting for someone to rescue them from the awkwardness. Molly didn’t mind the awkwardness though. In fact, she was very appreciative for the quiet.

Most days, Molly found herself with a continuous headache. The noise at the tavern was the cause of it. However, lately her headaches had been worse than usual. She knew it was because of that blasted codebook. Although she kept it hidden, she decided that it would be foolish to rely on it for every report than she wrote. So, she had taken it upon herself to memorize the book.

She had not gotten far. So far, she only knew the alphabet, numbers, and place names by heart. She knew some recurring words, but the task was proving more difficult than she initially thought. Whenever she found herself with a moment to herself, she was running through the corresponding numbers in her head.

“Alright.”

Both Molly and the Judge turned away from the fire and watched Mary come into view. Molly and Judge Woodhull gave one another a brief nod to say goodbye, then Molly rose to her feet and followed Mary outside. The friends had begun going to walks together.

It was nearly summer, and the weather was warm, and the breeze was light. They walked around Whitehall and finally found a quiet path beside the woods at the edge of the property.

“You’re still coming to the party tomorrow, yes?” Mary inquired.

Tomorrow evening, Judge Woodhull was hosting a dinner party in honor of Major Hewlett. The Judge wanted to give the Major a proper thanks for his work and success negotiating with the rebels. Molly still wasn’t sure how Mary had managed it, but somehow, she was on the guest list. The only other guests were soldiers and some of the wealthy loyalist families in Setauket – including most of the women in Mary’s sewing circle.

There was another reason for the party. They were also celebrating a recent victory over the Continental Army. Washington’s latest defeat had forced him to retreat, and it allowed the King’s Army to occupy Philadelphia. Molly was very glad that her plans had changed so long ago. She would not want to be living in Philadelphia right now.

“Of course.” Molly replied.

She was anxious for the party. This was her first real chance to spy on the Major.

They walked and conversed for nearly an hour, then they said their goodbyes, and one of the soldiers drove Molly back into town.

* * *

It was the day of the party. Molly was working. Mr. DeJong had given her the night off, but he still needed her to work right up to when the party started. There were only a few hours to go, and the customers were rowdier than usual.

Anna was busy serving drinks, and Molly was on her hands and knees, scrubbing vomit off the floor. The man responsible for the vomit sat nearby, talking excitedly with his drinking partners. A man in the main drinking salon played his violin. Some of men sang along. Molly wondered why, in their drunken stupor, the men only seemed to remember the bawdy lyrics to the songs.

Molly heard the tavern door open, but she didn’t pay it any mind.

“Oh, Major. Welcome.” DeJong greeted.

She turned around and watched as Major Hewlett stepped into the room. The Major never visited them. He believed it to be unprofessional to drink in front of his soldiers.

DeJong knew this too. That’s why he asked, “Is there a problem?”

“A problem?” Hewlett asked, looking around at the tavern’s clienteles. He was acting uncomfortable. “No, I simply wish to drink an ale.”

“Anna, an ale for the major.”

Hewlett raised a hand, “I actually have a matter to discuss with Mrs. Strong. If you could procure the drink, Mr. DeJong, that would be helpful.”

DeJong hurried away to fetch the ale, and Hewlett and Anna sat at a table on the other side of the tavern. Molly turned back to her work.

_Why would Hewlett want to speak with Anna?_

She couldn’t think of any recent grievances or misunderstandings. She would have to ask Anna about it later.

* * *

Molly cleaned the vomit off her hands and was back to serving drinks and wiping down tables. A half hour after he arrived, the Major finished his ale and left.

“What was that about?” Molly asked when Anna rejoined her at the bar.

“He… The Major invited me to the dinner this evening.”

Molly raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“Oh.” Was all she could think to say.

Mary had purposely not invited Anna. She was still wary about Abe and Anne’s history. This was definitely going to be an interesting party.

* * *

Mr. DeJong had also received an invitation to the party. He left far earlier to return to his home and dress for the evening. He told both Anna and Molly that he would see them later that night. Neither Anna nor Molly owned any exquisite dresses. Molly, herself, only owned five dresses. She rotated through each of them at least once a week.

She stripped out of the dress she had worn to work that day. She was very well aware that she reeked of stale alcohol and dried vomit. She tried to wipe down her hands and arms the best she could in her and Anna’s shared washbasin. Then she pinned up her hair, and she decided she looked presentable enough – there was no mirror in the women’s bedroom, so Molly truly didn’t know that for a fact. Anna also dressed quickly, and then they were ready to go.

One of the soldiers gave them a ride to Whitehall. It was dark when they finally arrived, yet they were still quite early to the festivities. Mr. DeJong had only just arrived with his wife when the Strongs stepped out of their carriage. A soldier opened the door for them when they arrived.

The Woodhulls were in the front entryway, greeting their guests as they arrived. Abe, Mary, and the Judge all looked to be in good spirits… until they caught sight of the Strongs. All three of them ignored Molly as their attention became focused on her sister-in-law.

“Anna.” Mary said.

It was not a greeting. Before they could say anything else, Major Hewlett joined them in the foyer.

“Ah, there you are.” He said, smiling to Anna. He turned to the Woodhulls, “You all know Mrs. Strong, of course.” He turned back to Anna, “You look fine, madam. Very fine.”

“Thank you.” Anna replied.

The compliment put her in good spirits.

Anna turned to look at the Woodhulls. “And thank you all for having me.” She added.

The Judge gave her an insincere smile and then turned his body to walk away.

“I think I may have that sit now after all.” He muttered.

“Absolutely. I'll... I'll help you, Father.” Mary agreed.

She looped her arm through the Judge’s arm and began to walk with him to the sitting room. But not before she shot Molly a furious look.

Molly knew that look, and she felt bad that no one had provided Mary with any warning. Not only was she still wary of Anna, but Mary was also not entirely convinced that Abe and Anna had not engaged in an affair of some sorts at some time.

“Major,” Abe broke into the conversation. He remained unmoved, “perhaps a viewing of the Loch Lomond.” He offered.

The Loch Lomond was a painting in Whitehall. The Judge was very found of the landscape piece, and he encouraged his guest to view it. But now it was Abraham who was doing the encouraging.

Hewlett perked up at the idea, “Mrs. Strong, would you care to view Loch Lomond before dinner gets underway?”

“There's nothing like it in Setauket. You really should.” Abe added.

Anna smiled, “By all means, then.”

“This way.”

Anna allowed Hewlett to whisk her away. Molly and Abe were the last ones now. Molly was glad to be alone with Abe, but it also irritated her how willing Anna was to abandon her. She brushed it off though.

“I need to talk to you.” She said quietly.

She stepped away from the door so Abe could still greet any guests that might still be arriving.

Abe smiled, “Whatever it is, I’m sure it can wait.”

“It can’t, actually.”

They looked at each other. Both of them had pleasant smiles on their faces, yet they strained their voices as they spoke in hushed tones.

Abe broke first, “Alright. What?”

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

Molly averted to gaze and pretended to admire the architecture in the main foyer.

“Avoiding you?” Abe scoffed.

“Don’t lie to me. I do not believe a word Mary has told me about your plight after the fire… I also know that Anna knows the truth, yet both of you continue to exclude me… What happened? Why won’t you tell me?”

Just then, the front door opened, and the next guests walked inside. Abe greeted them warmly and shook their hands. As soon as they were out of sight, their conversation continued.

“Mary knows.”

Molly’s attention was solely on Abe now.

“What do you mean _knows_?” she asked slowly, “How much does she _know_?”

“Only that I am involved… Mary discovered my codebook. She confronted me about it, but then Baker overheard everything.”

The real picture of what happened that night began to form in Molly’s head. That also explained why Abe hadn’t made contact in so long. Mary was watching him now.

“So, you…?”

Abe nodded. Although Molly had grown to dislike Baker, the news still pained her. Abe had killed a man.

“It was Mary’s idea to set fire to the house.” Abe added nonchalantly.

Molly was taken aback. _Mary?_ Her unassuming, loyalist friend?

“Before you ask, yes, I am explaining everything in my report.” Abe lightly grabbed her arm and pretended to laugh at something she said.

Molly faked a laugh as well. “So, you’re telling them about Mary?” she asked through her smile.

“No, I’m telling them everything except that.”

Molly was glad to hear that. Abe’s position as a spy was compromised now. Molly knew her friend well. Mary would not turn in her own husband. She would not do that to Thomas.

“So, when will you be making the drop?” she continued.

“I’m asking Anna to make the drop tonight...”

He said something else, but she had stopped listening.

“Sorry?” she asked, still through a fake smile. She was glad she was smiling, because she was having a difficult time masking her emotions. Ben told her that Abe was the only one who would be making the dead drops. This meant that he had revealed the information to Anna. And Anna had not shared it with her. “You mean we could’ve been making contact this entire time?”

“We could have, but it would’ve been ill-advised.”

They looked at each other for a second. Molly was trying to size her friend up. She knew he had been involved in this much longer than she had. If he believed it to be too dangerous, she had to trust him. The more she thought about it, Anna had been involved for a long time as well. She had to trust Anna’s judgement as well.

“Alright. Thank you.” She nodded slightly and then left him at the foyer.

She was relieved to hear that her reports would finally reach Ben, but first, she needed a drink.

* * *

Molly completed her first mission easy enough. With a glass of wine in her hands, she went in search of Mary. However, it was Mary who found her first. Molly quickly found herself in a parallel conversation to the one she had just had with Abe.

“What is she doing here?”

Mary’s tone was pleasant, but Molly could still see the annoyance in her eyes.

Molly sipped at her drink, “The Major stopped by the tavern earlier today. Apparently, he invited Anna to be his personal guest.”

It took a few moments for Mary to digest that, “And why would he do something like that?”

“Because,” Molly continued to look into her glass, “he admires her for leaping from her husband’s whaleboat and swimming to shore in order to remain loyal to His Majesty.”

It felt strange for her to speak to Mary like this. They sometimes gossiped; it was true. But now Molly was informed on some of Mary’s secrets, and Mary knew none of hers. Molly felt very manipulative in that moment, but she didn’t necessarily dislike the feeling. She’d need more time to decide.

“Alright.”

She noticed Mary’s mood was improving.

“Forgive me,” she added, “I was fearful that Abraham invited her.”

Mary did not say it out of jealousy, she said it out of concern. Molly knew how frightened she was of scandal befalling her family. Molly reached out and took her friend’s hand. The two women looked at each other.

“Hey, don’t talk like that. You know that if I knew anything, you would be the first person I’d speak to… You can trust me.”

Mary chuckled weakly, “You’re right. I’m being silly.”

Molly quickly drained her glass and began looking for someone to refill it.

* * *

When they finally sat down for the meal, Molly found it strange to be in such familiar company. Not only was the Major there, but Molly found herself sat besides her employer, and the women from Mary’s sewing club, and both her childhood and adult friends.

The truth was, she had not sat down for a meal like this since before Selah’s arrest. She was glad to be back, but she couldn’t help feeling like an imposter.

Abe rose from his seat, clinking his glass. The table quieted down and Abe gave a brief speech.

He began, “Tonight we celebrate the victories in our king's name and we honor the sacrifice made along the way. This year I learned the power of loss. And I'm not speaking of my farm, but of when I nearly lost my father to a rebel bullet and our town nearly lost its magistrate. A possibility which should terrify all of you considering it was I who had to prosecute in his stead.”

The Judge cut in, “You performed admirably.”

Abe scoffed, “Father, I lost the case.”

“That happens…. Not to me so much, but...”

The table laughed at his joke. Even Molly found herself chuckling.

“No. Loss begets gain. It inspires change.” Abe continued, “Your near loss pushed me to take up the law again and my loss at trial pushed me to want to win. Especially against those who rape and murder in the name of independence.”

Molly was impressed with Abe. She had known him a long time, but, as children, he had never been the clever one. He never made any of their plans for games. He would just typically tag along.

But here he was. The way he spoke, he made a good loyalist. Sometimes, it was hard for Molly to believe that he was actually on the Patriots’ side. He had proven himself to be a very convincing liar.

“My toast to you tonight is a promise.” Abe added, turning to look at his father, “I am to finish what I began at King's College. I aim to study the law by your example. And come one day, I will set out for New York to seek an apprenticeship to a barrister. And even if it takes me a year of going there and back, I will see it through. I've found my calling.”

Molly was taken aback by this news at first. But then she realized, it was the perfect cover. It was true, Abe had never graduated from law school. After the accident with his brother, he had moved back to Setauket to wed Mary and live as a farmer.

But now Ben needed information on New York, he had mentioned that to her when they met in the woods. It was becoming more difficult for locals to travel into the city without a reason – such as business or family. This would be that reason.

“And you have made your father very proud.” Judge Woodhull replied. He sounded genuinely moved by the news.

“Hear, hear.” Hewlett said.

Those at the table raised their glasses and took a drink… all except Mary. Apparently, Abe had not discussed this arrangement with her beforehand.

As Abe returned to his seat, and those at the table began to congratulate him on his schooling, Mary blurted out, “No, no. I... no. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Abraham. I can't let you do that. I'm sorry.”

The entire table was looked at her now.

“Mary, what are you... what are you talking about?” Abe asked in confusion.

“You know _why_ you can't go to New York.”

Molly held her breath. Mary knew about the spying, but did she have any idea about the need for intelligence regarding New York? Molly feared she had underestimated her friend.

Mary explained, “The rebels burned your farm. They shot your father. You are the son of the magistrate and they hate you for that. You were a target of the Patriots and they will try again.”

Molly exhaled in relief. _Thank God_.

“You think that I'm in danger of some kind?” Abe stammered.

Mary nodded, “There have been tales of... of kidnapping and killing of prominent Tories all over Long Island. Ensign Baker died defending your farm. You yourself were beaten and robbed on the way to York City and you wish to try again alone?”

Molly remembered when Mary had told her that story. Months ago, Abe was attacked by a rebel soldier outside of the city. The man intended to steal Abe’s identity and escape back to the Continental Army.

“Mary.” Hewlett spoke up, “I agree with you, madam. And that is why I shall guarantee his safety. He shall be granted an escort.”

The Judge nodded, “Now that is wise.”

“I hire two every trip.” DeJong chimed in.

Abe looked around the table, trying to think of an excuse.

“No, Major,” he said, “I couldn't possibly afford to pay for such a...”

Hewlett raised a hand, “There is no need. I shall provide a top man from my own regiment who will go with you to the city and stay by your side till your journey is over. That way, all of our minds can be put at ease.”

Abe scoffed, “No, I do not need... I do not need an escort.”

“There's no shame in it.” Hewlett insisted. “It's a dangerous world out there.”

So, it was decided. There was no way Abe could continue to protest without raising suspicion. Mary seemed to know that too.

“Thank you, sir.” She replied, “That's very generous of you, sir.”

“It is my pleasure. It's done.”

“Now, let's eat.” The Judge declared.

It was true, during Abe’s entire speech, their dinner had been getting cold. As Molly ate, the noticed the tense looks Abe and Mary kept exchanging across the table. The entire time, she thought, _I trust Abe. He will think of something._

* * *

A week later, Molly ran into Abe in town.

“Morning, Ms. Strong.” He greeted.

“Mr. Woodhull.” She replied.

They found it amusing to be formal with one another.

He lowered his voice, “Mail call.” And he subtly handed her a bundle of letters.

She stared at the letters for a moment, then looked back at Abe.

“Thank you.” Was all she could say.

He nodded, and they parted ways. Back at the tavern, Molly could hardly contain herself, but she remained patient. As soon as her shift was over, she rushed upstairs to her room and began to read through the letters.

She recognized his handwriting immediately. She quickly realized that most of the letters were dated weeks earlier. He must’ve begun writing to her expecting the dead drop to be used more frequently. She read then in chronological order. With her codebook in her lap, she began translating what she needed to. The first letter read:

_Molly,_

_By now, I’m certain you’ve learned of our defeat at Brandywine. I do not know what the loyalist papers are reporting, but know that it is not as bleak as they may attempt to make it. Although I did not fight there, I have spoken to many men who did, as well as to Washington himself about the matter._ _It is true, our army was outflanked. The fault was not on Washington. It seems that many factors, such as the weather, were not on our side that day. Do not fret. Although Brandywine is and will be considered a defeat, hope is not lost. When the army was forced to flee the battlefield and retreat, they did not do so out of panic. They did not lose their heads, and they regrouped in Philadelphia. Philadelphia is lost now._ _I know. I admit, when word reached me, I laughed. I am thankful to whatever compelled us so long ago not to go Philadelphia. If you were in the city when it was taken, I cannot imagine what the future would bring._ _Hope all is well at home, and I pray you are in good health._

He did not sign any of the letters, but Molly did not fault him for that – it was too dangerous. In fact, he did not even properly address them to her. He had written her name in code as well.

The next letter read:

_Molly,_

_I will be staying in Morristown, NJ for the coming weeks. I have decided to tell you this although it is against my better judgement. I have not disclosed my current location to Samuel Culper or 355. It is a formality I am limiting to you._ _If trouble arises and Setauket no longer becomes safe, I pray you will find the resources to escape to me or Caleb._

The next:

_Molly,_

_A month has come and gone and, still, I hear no word from our friends in Setauket. I pray you are in good health. I will feel a sense of relief when my correspondence finally reaches you._ _Our lack of time together pained me greatly during our last visit. I have been pondering your words for much time, and that is why I must inquire: Is your position in town secure? I find it amusing to imagine you socializing with our most difficult neighbors._ _I am wary to reveal too much about my current position. However, know that I am in good health. As is Caleb. Although it brings me much relief to be able to correspond with you again, some days I also regret you revealing yourself to us in the cellar._ _Caleb speaks of you often, and he has returned to pestering me about our engagement. You remember what he was like back home? Well, I can report that his inquires have increased tenfold._ _Please know that I am thinking of you often, as I always have._

She snorted at the comment about Caleb. It was true, she remembered Caleb’s teasing very well.

The next read:

_Molly,_

_Need assistance. Washington is in need someone to infiltrate Philadelphia and report on the occupation of the city. I am not proposing you, in fact, I would prefer you stay where you are. However, it would be helpful if you could begin focusing on Philadelphia related rumors. I would be happy to receive any and all ideas on this matter._

Next:

_Molly,_

_I apologize for not writing to you as of late. I am disheartened to report that I have spent the past days in a state of frustration. It appears that there are just as many traitors among our own ranks as there are back home._ _An anonymous pamphlet is circulating among the men here at camp. "The Thoughts of a Free Man”, it’s called, and it is a load of shite. The pamphlet is a direct attack on Washington’s leadership. The words are treason in its purest form! I_ _t begins by laying the loss of Philadelphia at his feet and it concludes with calling for his exile. It even compares him to the demon Ba'al. Not only that, but there are rumors that two of our generals have written to Congress to petition that Washington be removed as leader._ _I have spoken to Washington on the matter, but he continues to ignore both these rumors and truths. The man won't stand up for himself against his detractors. And I cannot for the life of me understand why._

Molly was fighting to suppress her giggles as she read. _That’s quite some pamphlet_ , she thought. Besides that, she also had a better understood why Ben had been so adamant about not writing to her for so long.

The truth was, Ben had always been a gossip. Since they were children, he had a nasty habit of parroting every rumor or secret he heard. As they grew older, he began to do it less and less. Molly assumed he had outgrown the habit. But then he began courting her, and the habit returned.

Ben could become passionate on any topic. When they were engaged, Molly heard everything about everyone. She had grown used to his habit – after all, he now only gossiped with his closest friends, not with strangers. Molly never shared a single word of this gossip with anyone. But it made her think: If they didn’t have the codebook to conceal information, Ben would be a walking liability.

_Molly,_

_Finally! I have met a man who shares the same views regarding that damned pamphlet! Tonight, I attended an officers’ dinner at camp. The man, who I believe to be the author, shamelessly read through the pamphlet during the meal. He laughed with his allies at the opposite end of the table. Again, Washington said nothing. The meal was half finished when one of our generals returned to camp from a recent battle. He spoke up and verbally condemned the pamphlet as the words of a coward, “who only further proves his cowardice by his inability to face Washington himself” – his words. Finally, I feel as if some order has been restored, both to myself and to the camp._

And then she came upon the last letter:

_Molly,_

_You cannot begin to comprehend how pleased I was to receive your reports. I am relieved that there have been no further incidents since my return home. I am also overjoyed at the long-awaited news regarding Captain Simcoe. I pray that brutal man never sets foot on our soil ever again._ _I – and Washington – have no complaints about the way your reports are organized. In fact, I appreciate the detail you included. I will most definitely delve into more research regarding the colonel and his mistress, as well as the potentially treasonous privateer. Washington was especially interested in the rumor regarding the troop numbers in the areas of New Jersey._ _I am afraid that I must make this last message brief. I am rushing to hand it off to Caleb so he can return to the dead drop as quickly as possible._

_All my love,_

_All my love_ , Molly smiled as the read the line again. She read through each letter a second time, and then walked over to her small writing desk. She collected a quill and a bottle of ink and began scribbling a reply.

She began, by inquiring about the thing she knew he least wanted to hear about:

_Ben,_

_I was pleased to finally receive your correspondence(s). First order of business: Is it still possible to obtain a copy of that pamphlet that enraged you so? Despite your words against its contents, I am very much interested in reading it…_

She silently chuckled as she continued writing. If he thought Caleb’s teasing was brutal, it was nothing compared to the letter she was going to write for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not that anyone cares, but the show implies that Season 2 begins in the late spring/early summer. The actual Battle of Brandywine took place in September 1777.


	12. 2x02

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be a super short chapter bc in the episode they’re only in Setauket for one scene.

Molly swore. She winced and brought her thumb to her mouth, to lick away the forming bead of blood. She was at Whitehall visiting Mary again. They conversed as they worked on their needlepoint. Molly had always hated needlepoint. She had spent her teenager years learning from her mother, and she had struggled through everything involving a needle.

Molly had no problem mending holes in clothing, but she was also aware that her stitching was always lacking compared to other women’s. As for needlepoint or any of the projects the women worked on during Mary’s sewing clubs, Molly knew she was quite helpless.

Mary lightly chuckled upon hearing her friend’s foul language.

“Careful. You don’t want Father to hear.”

“Oh, and what will he do about it?” Molly tone was harsh, but she had a smile on her face now.

They continued their works in silence for a few more minutes.

“When does Abe leave for York City?” Molly decided to ask.

“This weekend. And, frankly, I haven’t seen him this eager in quite some time.”

Molly noticed her friend’s demeanor change.

“Is something the matter?”

Mary paused and set her needlepoint down in her lap. She was biting her lip as she thought. Molly had paused as well.

“What’s wrong?” Molly asked again.

Mary shook her head slightly. “It’s silly.”

“Well clearly, it’s not. You seem distressed.”

Mary looked around the sitting room for a moment, almost to reassure herself that they were alone. She then scooted closer to her friend on the couch.

She kept her voice quiet, “I know we have not spoken about it directly.” There was a hint of nervousness in her voice. “But I… I have reason to believe he is still seeing Anna.”

Molly looked at her friend for a moment. She was deciding how to approach this. Up to that point, she was still convinced that there never had been an affair, and that is had only appeared that way because of Anna and Abe’s involvement in the spy ring.

But now things were different. Mary knew, but she only knew about Abe. Molly was sure of it. She had to be careful with how she responded.

“What makes you say that?” she decided to ask.

Mary kept her voice low, “At dinner for the Major, I saw them exit the closet in the entryway. They were _in_ there alone.”

 _What does she want from me?_ Molly thought. _I cannot blindly agree with her. She knows I wouldn’t do that._

Molly’s voice wavered slightly, “I am not saying I do not believe you, but I beg of you, please do not rush to conclusions.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Mary snapped.

“Have you spoken to Abe about it?” Molly countered.

“I did once. But I have not mentioned it again for quite some time.”

Molly put a hand on Mary’s arm. She was wracking her brain trying to think of a way to appease her.

“I have an idea.” She finally said, “You harbor ill feelings towards Anna because of this belief. However, you have never really spoken to her. What if, you offered her your friendship?”

Mary scoffed.

“No, I’m serious,” Molly insisted, “That would give you the chance to either discover evidence of an affair… or discover that there is no affair at all.”

Mary did not immediately respond. She was thinking.

“Please, Mary.” Molly begged, “Do this for me.”

Mary looked up at her friend and nodded faintly.

“Okay.” She said quietly. “But _only_ for you.”

The two returned to their needlepoint. The once comfortable silence had morphed into tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.

* * *

That weekend, Abe left for York City with Hewlett’s man as his escort.

Molly was pleasantly surprised when Anna made the comment, “I received an invitation from Mary Woodhull. She wants me to attend her sewing circle at Whitehall.”

Molly perked up at the news, “Oh, really? How nice! Will you go?”

“If you’ll cover my shift, I think I will.” Anna decided.

Molly was relieved.

The sewing circle took place the next afternoon. Molly worked anxiously. She could not wait until Anna returned that evening and she could ask her about it. They did not get a chance to speak alone until that night when they were preparing to go to bed.

“Well?” Molly asked, excitedly.

Anna was sat on the bed in her nightgown. Her hair was unpinned, and she was brushing it hair out.

Anna kept her tone nonchalant, but she was smiling now. “It was alright.” She shrugged.

As Molly crawled under the covers, she grabbed her pillow and playfully hit Anna on the arm with it.

“Annie!”

Anna laughed, “Fine! It was nice. Mary and the other women were fine company.”

Molly knew that was all she was going to get from Anna, but she was delighted at the news. Anna was not finished speaking though.

“There’s something else. But you have to promise to keep it between us.”

Molly nodded, assuming it still had to do with Mary.

“Of course!”

But then Anna said, “When Major Hewlett invited me to that dinner, he said it was because of my decision to stay in Setauket. Well, I saw him at Whitehall, and… and I think he means to offer me his friendship.”

“Oh…” She wasn’t expecting that news. All she could think to ask was, “Well have you decided to accept it?”

Anna looked down at her lap and then back at Molly.

“I haven’t yet. I wanted to talk to you first. What do you think I should do?”

“Well, I mean, we have had our disagreements… But despite that, Hewlett has always been fair to us.”

Anna nodded, but remained quiet as she considered that.

She sighed, “If he offered his friendship to _you_ , what would _you_ say?”

“Well, I suppose I’d say yes.” Molly didn’t even need time to think it over, “Imagine what you could hear from sitting down to a drink that man.”

“You would only accept his friendship based on how you could benefit from knowing him?”

“Of course!” Molly could see that Anna was troubled by that, “Anna’s now is not the time to get sentimental. There _is_ a war on.”

Anna brushed her off, “You’re right, you’re right.”

“But if you feel uncertain about the entire ordeal, there is no shame is refusing his friendship. It’s best to make a bad decision than no decision at all.”

Anna smirked and shot Molly a look.

“And _where_ did you hear _that_?”

Molly snorted in amusement and ran a hand through her hair.

“I don’t remember.” She admitted. “But when we were children, me and Caleb lived by those words.”

Anna rolled her eyes, “Figures. I hated you when we were children.”

“I remember.”

And she did remember.

As teenagers, Selah had had a crush on Anna for years, but that made Molly very critical of her. Whenever Selah or Abe or Caleb suggested that Anna join them in games or conversations, Molly always tried to dissuade their efforts. When she was younger, Molly became easily jealous of any girl who tried to join her friend group – in other words, she used to bully Anna. She was the only girl, and she hated hearing her brother or her friends swoon over other girls. Molly didn’t want to talk about relationships, she wanted to get into fights and wrestle in the mud; she wanted to make the most of it because she knew it wasn’t going to last. 

Anna finished brushing her hair and crawled under the covers as well. As she settled in for the night, Molly blew out the last of the candles and laid down as well.

“Good night, Moll.”

“Good night, Annie.”


	13. 2x03

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This episode is also pretty short bc this is the quiet before the shitstorm that is the second half of season 2

“Do you have any letters for Ben?”

Molly looked over at Anna. They were both getting dressed for the day. Anna had already mentioned that she was going to signal Caleb. She just needed to leave their reports at the dead drop.

“Oh, yeah.” She walked over to the bed and pulled some papers out from under the mattress. “Here.”

Anna took the papers and began folding them into her own report.

They were going to wait to signal until Abe returned with his reports, but Anna said that she had heard some news while visiting Mary as Whitehall. She thought it should be passed along quickly. Molly and Anna never discussed the reports they sent to Ben. They had an unspoken agreement that it would be safer not to repeat anything they heard. Anyone could be listening.

“I could use some help.” Molly added.

She was struggling with the laces of her corset that morning .

“Here.” Anna walked over and easily tightened them around Molly’s chest and torso.

“Thanks.”

“I’ll see you later. I’m going to give the Major my answer.”

Molly nodded and began pulling on the last layer of her dress. Although they had talked about it, she did not know what Anna’s decision was going to be.

“Good luck.”

* * *

Anna returned to the tavern a few hours later.

“How did it go?” Molly asked, expecting Anna to join her behind the bar.

But Anna didn’t. She hurried upstairs instead. She did not return for several minutes, and when she did, she was carrying a folded shirt in her hands.

“Where has Cicero gone?” she asked.

“He’s in the back.”

Anna disappeared again, and then returned again, this time without the shirt. Molly watched her as she tied her apron around her waist.

“Everything alright?” Molly asked.

Anna nodded.

“Major Hewlett received a package from Philadelphia. It was a gift from Abigail.” She explained.

“Philadelphia?” Molly repeated in a whisper.

Anna nodded and gave her a look that said, _Not now. Later._ She grabbed the nearest pitcher and began making her way around the tables, to refill mugs. An hour passed before Molly was able to corner Anna in the back room.

“Abigail is in Philadelphia?”

Anna nodded, “Yes, and she sent word.” She stepped closer and whispered in her sister-in-law’s ear. “General Lee is a traitor.”

She stepped back to look at the surprised expression on Molly’s face.

“As in _Charles_ Lee, the Continental officer?”

“I’ve already set the signal for Caleb. I’ll write up this information and return to the drop again tonight.”

She grabbed a tray and returned to the main tavern floor. Anna didn’t want anyone to wonder where they had snuck away to.

Molly stood there, staring at the shelves of inventory. She was not looking at the individual items, she was staring through them, lost in thought. She knew that this was the biggest secret they had uncovered. Or Anna would not have shared it with her. But it also made Molly wary. Ben had been correct when he wrote to her weeks earlier: There _were_ traitors in their own ranks.

* * *

It had been two days since Anna received the note from Abigail. Abe was due to return to Setauket any day now. Anna had left early that morning, to run an errand. Molly was busy serving drinks at the tavern. Until Anna returned, Molly and Cicero were the only two working that morning.

It was midmorning when Anna returned. The tavern was almost empty. Only two men drank.

“There you are.” Molly greeted.

Anna did not match her friendliness. “Take a walk with me.”

“Cicero! We’ll be back.” Molly called to him. Cicero was in the back doing chores.

Molly walked beside Anna as she led them along the coast and away from the buildings in town.

“What is this about?” Molly finally asked when they were well out of earshot of everyone.

Anna grabbed a small stone from the ground and lazily threw it into the water,

“I saw Abe this morning.”

“What? He’s back?

She nodded, “He gave me his report from the city… Don’t worry, I already left it at the drop for Caleb.”

Anna looked over her shoulder, almost to confirm they were alone.

“What else did he say?” Molly asked.

She could tell Anna wanted to say more.

“It’s just, Abe told me about his trip… Do you know how he convinced Hewlett to allow him to visit the city so frequently?”

Molly didn’t like where this was going.

“No.”

“He’s convinced Hewlett that he still has ties to the Sons of Liberty.”

The Sons of Liberty was one of the rebel organizations inside of York City. They had been some of the first people to openly rebel against the Crown, before the war started.

Molly scoffed, “But he was a Son of Liberty.”

“Aye, but not anymore. He gave it up for Mary.”

That was the truth. Molly was confused though.

“Why would Abe tell Hewlett this?”

“He’s pretending to seek out hidden rebels in the city and report any information to Hewlett. He’s pretending to be a loyalist spy.”

Molly laughed out loud. The idea was so absurd.

“Is he serious?” Molly asked.

Anna said nothing, but Molly could tell from her face that it was true.

“He’s going to get himself killed. What is he thinking?” Molly shook her head.

“I don’t know.”

* * *

Although she had not spoken to him since his return, Abe did not fail to deliver the mail left at the dead drop. As soon as she had a moment to herself, she read through her letters:

_Molly,_

_Today I wished more than ever that you had decided to come with us. There is an important man who I work with at camp. His name is Mr. Sackett. He is a stout, bumbling man, but he is also one of the most ingenious men I have ever met. He is the one who crafted our codebook. I believe you would enjoy his company. He is the only man – besides Caleb of course – who I have spoken to about you. It was his idea to assign you to the code 355._

_I knew that he was handpicked by Washington to assist with methods of gathering intelligence, but I had no idea how extensive his research was. Today, he gave me and Caleb a tour of his inventions. They range from a machine to help one forge letters to a boat-like contraption that he claims can be used to navigate underwater._ _In fact, I have already thought of many ways his inventions cannot only help us. They could also be used in identifying traitors within our own ranks. I cannot provide details, but I have a plan that I want to put into effect. If anything comes of my idea, you will be the first to know – by way of writing, of course._

The next letter read:

_Molly,_

_received the message from Abigail. You’re clever, so I’m sure by now you’ve guessed who I believe wrote that dammed pamphlet. Now that my suspicions are proven to be correct, I suppose it is time I tell you about why all of this infuriates me so._ _I know it is difficult for us, there is so much to say after not seeing each other for so long. There are plenty of stories I have forgotten to tell you, but many of them are too long or are too detailed to properly express in writing. One of those stories involves General Lee._

_There is a man. Abe told me that he visited Setauket, but I doubt you ever crossed paths with him. His name is Robert Roberts. He is the former leader of the Queen’s Rangers. Before I was involved in intelligence for Washington, I served solely as a cavalry officer. My men were assigned to go out on daily patrols around the perimeter of our camp._ _During one of these patrols, we were ordered to rendezvous with General Lee. We never reached our rendezvous. Someone alerted the enemy. I lost my entire patrol to Robert Rogers. My men were butchered in that ambush._

There was more to the letter, but Molly didn’t pay the rest much attention. Ben’s words troubled her deeply. None of them were safe.

* * *

The next several weeks passed without anything unusual. Every other week, Abe would travel to York City for his studies. Molly continued to visit Mary regularly, and she worked and continued to write reports as she saw fit. Over those weeks, they used the dead drop more often than ever before. So, Molly began to receive more recent letters. Since they were getting responses so quickly, some of her letters to Ben, and some of his to her, became one sentence responses. So, their letters continued:

_Ben,_

_Our favorite corporal had too much to drink tonight. I believe I have overheard an accurate account of the troop numbers being sent from York City to Philadelphia…_

_Molly,_

_…What’s the name of that ghost story you used to tell me? Caleb, nor I, can remember it…._

_Ben,_

_I am writing again to inquire about that pamphlet. You have still failed to send me a copy…_

_Molly,_

_Nothing came from my idea…_ _I am embarrassed to say that my folly was discovered by Washington. He has made it clear that he is disappointed with my decision. Although I know I still have his trust, I fear I no longer have his full respect._

_Ben,_

_I’m sure you have not lost Washington’s respect. You are always too hard on yourself…_

_Molly,_

_The man I spoke of at that officers’ dinner, the man who shares my views, his name is General Arnold. He has returned from the fighting, and he is suffering from an injury. I have spoken to him on multiple occasions. I enjoy his company, and he seems to tolerate mine._ _He knew Samuel. Apparently, they served together at Valcour Island. It encourages me greatly that Samuel is so fondly remembered. He is a gruff man, but I believe he might be a powerful ally to have._

_Ben,_

_Whatever your decision, just remember: There are traitors among us. You told me that. If you wish to offer this man your friendship, be wary of him just as you are of all those who have not yet earned your trust…_

* * *

“Anna tells me you two are getting along fine.”

Mary glanced over at her friend. They were taking a walk around the property of Whitehall. Thomas was with them this time. He was nearly two years old, and he waddled beside the women, grasping his mother’s hand.

"Yes, I suppose we are.”

“And does that now put you at ease?... Regarding your suspicions.”

Mary chuckled, but there was no amusement in her voice.

“Molly,” she said, “why are you so adamant to prove me wrong. Yes, I agree that Abe and Anna are no longer seeing each other. But I know that they once were.”

They had both stopped walking.

Mary added, “Believe whatever you want, but I know I am not wrong.”

Mary began walking again, guiding Thomas beside her. Molly watched them for a moment before continuing her pace. She said nothing more on the subject, but she was beginning to doubt herself now. Mary had no reason to ever accuse Anna of such a thing. Perhaps there was more to this rumor than Molly gave it credit for.

_What if I’m wrong?_


	14. 2x04

**October 1777**

Molly was in her room. It was rare, but that night, she was not working the last shift at the tavern. She could hear the music and the muffled voices of the customers through the floorboards. For the first time, in a long time, she was trying to read a book.

Before Selah’s arrest, she used to read all the time. She would read anything cover-to-cover, from novels to textbooks to cookbooks. The former Strong Manor used to have quite an extensive library. But that was all gone now; confiscated by the Crown.

The book she was reading was borrowed from Whitehall. Mary had let her take one of Abe’s spare law textbooks. Molly found the contents rather dull, but it gave her something to do. So, she continued to read through it.

She was interrupted by a knock at her door. She climbed out of bed and answered the door. Cicero stood there.

“A message for you, Ms. Molly. From Mr. Abraham.” He handed her a folded piece of paper.

Molly eyed Cicero for a moment.

“Did you already read it?” she asked teasingly.

Cicero smirked, “No, ma’am.”

He hurried back downstairs to continue with his chores. Molly closed the door but remained next to it. She quickly unfurled the paper. It read:

_Anna and Molly. Meet tonight. My burnt farmhouse. Root cellar._

Molly quickly pulled on her shoes and her cloak. She was very happy she hadn’t undressed for the evening.

When she went downstairs, the tavern was bustling with people. She finally caught sight of Anna, who was clearing dishes off one of the tables.

“Anna, I’m having trouble sleeping. I’m going out for a walk.” She told her.

As she spoke, she slipped the note into Anna’s hand. Anna nodded, quickly hiding the paper in the palm of her hand.

“Alright then. Be careful.”

Molly hugged her cloak around herself as she exited the tavern and began to make her trip to the ruins of Abe’s farm.

* * *

Although it was dark, it was still quite early in the evening. She was grateful she did not run into anyone on the road. The walk took her around twenty minutes.

She had not been to the farm since before the fire. She was saddened to see the charred remains of the farmhouse’s foundation. The small garden and the land where the crops were once grown were not completely desolate. The only thing that stood was the small shack beside the crop field, where Abe’s slaves used to be housed. His slaves were not staying and working at Whitehall.

She had no trouble locating the entrance to the root cellar. The door to the cellar were also charred, but when she opened them, she discovered that the cellar had been untouched by the fire.

She saw candlelight at the bottom of the stairs, so she began her descent. She had never been in Abe’s cellar before. When she reached the bottom, she could see that it was small. There was a small writing desk against the wall nearest to her, and there were barrels and tools scattered in the other corners of the room. Abe was sitting at the writing desk, beside him stood a man. He had his back turned to her.

“Abe?” Molly asked uncertainly.

Abe and the man turned to look at her, and she gasped in excitement. It was Ben. He was dressed in civilian clothes and his hair was loose so that it hung above his shoulders.

They both laughed as they embraced each other. Their hug did not last though because both of them became aware of the other’s state of dishevelment. Ben reeked of dirt and body odor and Molly reeked of old ale and dried vomit.

Abe noticed their discomfort and quietly chuckled.

“I came straight from the tavern.” Molly muttered.

“Aye,” Abe cut in, “and Ben came straight from spending three days in the woods.”

Molly looked between the two men.

“Three days?” she repeated.

Ben sighed, “Aye. I’ve been waiting for one of you to visit the dead drop.”

“Three days though?”

"Shut up.”

He playfully shoved her, so she shoved him back harder.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Caleb’s on an assignment in New Jersey. And this can’t wait. I want to show you something.”

He motioned for her to come over to the desk. He stood between Abe and Molly and picked up two vials that sat on the desk.

“Look, I know, the codebook, the egg, they're not safe.” Ben began. “But this, this is.”

He uncapped one of the vials, dipped a quill in, and then began to write on a blank piece of parchment. Abe and Molly watched, but nothing appeared on the page. The ink was transparent.

“That's brilliant there, Ben.” Abe said sarcastically.

Ben set down the quill and picked up the second vial, “Look, this clear fluid is called the agent. And the green is the reagent. Now you apply just a little bit with a very fine brush.” He uncapped the vial and this one had a brush attached to the inside of the lid. He brushed over the invisible words he had just written. “It took us months to acquire this much.” He explained. “There. Just wait.”

Right then, they heard the cellar door open again.

“Abe?”

It was Anna’s voice. Ben gave Abe and Molly a mischievous look and held a finger to his lips. He silently moved to one side of the cellar, so that Anna couldn’t see him when she first got to the bottom of the stairs. He was going to scare her.

“Yeah.” Abe responded, hiding his smile.

She had reached the bottom of the stairs. “I came as soon we closed. What have you done to your root cellar?”

That’s when Ben jumped out and let out a sudden growling sound. Anna shrieked in surprise, but her cry turned into laughter as she saw who it was.

“Anna Strong.” Ben greeted.

They hugged briefly.

“Oh, come on.” Abe teased, “He's filthy.”

“I thought you had forgotten about us.”

“Who, me?” Ben deadpanned. “No, I've been down here for months.” He walked over to Molly and wrapped an arm around her waist. “Moll’s done a good job keeping me hidden.”

Anna gave Molly a look and rolled her eyes playfully, “Well, it’s good to see you.”

Ben released Molly and retrieved his bag from the ground. He pulled out a poorly carved ship.

“This is a gift for Abigail.” He explained. “It's made to look like her son carved it. But when she handles it, she will discover... this.” He pulled out the ship’s bowsprit revealing a note hidden inside.

“What is it?” Anna asked.

“It's instructions on how to compose her intelligence reports. Washington requires proper protocol and context.”

Anna began shaking her head repeatedly.

“No. No. No, Abigail had an arrangement with me. She never volunteered to spy for Washington.”

“Anna, she is vital to us. Right now, she's our only window into Philadelphia.”

It was true. After months of eavesdropping and making conversation with soldiers and sailors, Anna and Molly had failed to learn of any information originating in Philadelphia.

“She'll be terrified.” Anna protested. “She won't do it.”

“She sent us the information about General Lee.” Ben reminded her. “Let her make the choice. I believe she'll make the right one.”

Anna took the ship from him. “I don't know how I'd get it to her.”

“What about Major Hewlett?” Abe asked. “He's already offered you his friendship. I'm sure he'd send it by special courier for you.”

As Molly turned to look at him, she noticed that there was something appearing on the piece of paper in front of Abe. The other noticed it too.

“Ah, look. What did I tell you, huh?” Ben laughed. “Invisible ink.”

The four of them crowded around Abe’s writing desk.

“Magic.” Anna breathed in disbelief.

“No, chemistry.” Ben chuckled. “I'll show you how to apply it as well. While Abe remains in the city, you or Molly will have to transcribe his letters and Abigail's and put them both into the drop.

Molly shot Abe a look. He hadn’t told him.

“While Abe remains in the city?” Anna asked.

“I was just about to tell him that I can't do it.” Abe turned to Ben and said the same thing, only this time louder, “Ben, I can't do it.”

“What? Why? Abe, you're studying the law. It's the perfect cover.”

“If it were that simple, I'd be there already. All right? As it is, I can't stay for longer than a week, so...”

Ben let out an exasperated sigh, “Look, whatever's happening between you two, it has to be put aside.”

“It's not that.” Abe and Anna said together in unison.

Molly looked at the three of them warily. All she could thing of was Mary’s suspicions. The same word echoed in her head: _Affair_. But the conversation was continuing with or without her.

“I can't help you unless you tell me the truth.” Ben replied.

Abe stood up from the desk and paced slightly.

“The truth is, I have a better solution. Now what we really need is a friend inside the city. And I may have found him.”

“Ah, a friend?” Ben repeated, “Who?” He sounded unconvinced.

Molly didn’t blame him. This was the first time she and Anna were hearing this took.

“His name's Townsend. He's originally from Oyster Bay, but he runs a boardinghouse in the Bowery now. He's very smart. He's very discreet.” Abe explained.

“Right, this Townsend, he... what, he just volunteered?”

“Well, he wants to, he just doesn't know it yet. Ah, Abe. Look, I'm travelling to see him tomorrow.”

“I can't go back with this. I can't go back there.” Ben scoffed,

“Look, Ben, I know him. Trust me.”

“Yeah, I do trust you, Abe. But Washington...” He looked over at Molly. “Washington may not trust me.” All Molly could think about was that letter he had sent her. “I... I... I've earned his disappointment of late and I need something to make up for that. Something real or else I'm out.”

 _I’m out._ Molly was not sure if he was overreacting or if he was serious. Either way, she didn’t like the sound of that.

“All right, all right.” Abe agreed. “You go back, and you tell Washington that I have found our man in New York.”

* * *

Before they said their goodbyes, Ben demonstrated the invisible ink again for all of them. He then provided each of them with a vial of the agent and the reagent.

They parted ways outside of the cellar. Abe began to make the hike back to Whitehall and Anna into town. Molly told Anna to go on without her; she would walk Ben to his boat. As soon as Abe and Anna had departed, Molly grabbed Ben’s hand and steered him away from the woods.

“Hey, Molly!” He laughed.

She shushed him, “C’mon!”

She led him to the small shack that still stood beside the burnt remains of Abe’s farmhouse. Although the shack was abandoned, Molly knew it was still furnished inside. Abe intended to eventually rebuild his farm.

“What are we doing?” Ben whispered as she closed the door to the shack behind them.

She responded by pushing him back against the wall and kissing him on the mouth. Neither of them cared about the other’s unkemptness. They were just glad to see each other again.

Ben chuckled quietly, but his laughter was muffled as Molly pulled him closer to her. This kiss was deeper. It wasn’t like the fleeting ones from before – the ones in the tavern cellar and in the woods. She had one hand knotted in his hair and the other gripping at the fabric of his shirt, and his hands were pulling at her waist and her skirts.

“Molly,” he breathed.

Hearing that made the pit, that was forming in her stomach, ache. They continued to kiss, their breathing heavy as Ben guided them to the small bed in the corner of the room.

Without saying anything, they knew that their intimacy would not go beyond this. But it still didn’t stop them from finding a seat on the bed.

Ben sat on the edge of the bed, with Molly straddling his lap. She gasped slightly and tugged on his hair in surprise as she felt his cold hands slip under her skirts and found a place to rest on the backs of her thighs.

After several minutes of this, Molly was the first one to break. “What’s this about you being _out_?” she asked, slightly out of breath.

His hands had moved out from under her skirts. He kept them on her lower back now. He leaned in again and kissed her chin. She could tell he was trying to change the subject. She shoved against him slightly.

“Hey, I’m serious. If you’re out, then I’m out too.”

“You don’t mean that.” He scoffed.

“I do.” She climbed off him and instead sat next to him on the bed. “I’m only doing this because I trust you.”

She leaned against him and wrapped her arms around his torso, hugging him close. She suddenly felt chilled again.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Ben scoffed, “I am not exaggerating. Listen to me, Washington is not as forgiving as you may imagine him to be. He is harsh and –”

“And what? A complete ass?” Molly was the one scoffing now.

“Aye, sometimes.” He admitted.

They sat there, looking at each other. Molly was sick of feeling this way. It seemed that every time they were together, she forgot everything she had ever wanted to tell him.

She wasn’t alone. He felt the same. He wanted her to come with him. Since they’d been exchanging letters, seeing her now made every part of him ache. He knew as soon as he was rowing away from Setauket, he would remember a dozen different things he wanted to tell her.

“Will you still walk me to my boat?” he asked.

She nodded. They untangled themselves from one another and slipped out of the shack. They began to make the hike into the woods. They walked for several minutes in silence.

“I have a question for you.” Molly spoke up. “Do you really believe we’ll win this war?”

“Washington seems to think so… Well, as long as he can convince France to send us aid.”

“France?”

She perked up at the gossip. She hadn’t heard from anyone, rebel or loyalist about the possibility of France joining the war. Ben mumbled a few curses. He was aware of his problem keeping his mouth shut.

“You aren’t to tell a soul about that. Do you hear me, Molly Strong?”

She stifled a laugh, but she knew she didn’t need to respond. It was a rhetorical question; he already knew the answer.

“Okay, then I have another question.”

“Hm?” He looked over at her.

“You made that comment about something going on between Anna and Abe. Why?”

Ben kept walking, but Molly noticed he slowed his pace. She knew it! That hadn’t been a throwaway comment. She grabbed his wrist and they both stopped walking.

“Did Abraham and Anna have an affair?” She didn’t mean to blurt it out like that, but she did it anyway. First it was Ensign Baker, and now Mary had been planting the idea in her head for long enough. She wanted to know!

Ben held a hand up in mock surrender, “I honestly don’t know.” A beat. “Why don’t you just ask Anna?”

* * *

A week passed. _You’re a coward_ , Molly told herself. She still hadn’t worked up the courage to say anything. She knew Ben was right. Why hadn’t she just asked Anna about it all those months ago? It didn’t matter though; she was still going to put off the question.

A few days after Ben left, Caleb visited the dead stop to leave a letter for Molly. Abe delivered it to the tavern. The fact that there had only been the letter for her was strange. But it was not nearly as strange as the contents of the letter. It read:

_Molly,_

_When I arrived back at camp, I heard word that I was summoned by General Arnold. When I went to his tent, he was outraged that my visit was delayed. Apparently, he summoned for me the same night I left for Setauket. Once his anger subsided, he explained to be the reason for summoning me. He has offered me the position of aide-de-camp._ _I am very tempted to accept. The more I talk to the man, the more I come to understand how much we agree upon. He agrees that there are traitors among our own ranks. In fact, he has made implications that he knows of General Lee’s treachery!_

 _With all that said, I am also fearful of what Washington’s reaction may be if I accept the position. Although Washington seems to be fond of the man, Arnold does not speak warmly of Washington. He believes him to be a fool, blinded by his ability to strategize rather than to act. I_ _would appreciate any advice you may be able to give me on this matter._

_All my love._

Molly found the entire proposal to be odd. An aide-de-camp was essentially an officer acting as a personal assistant – a secretary, even – to a higher-ranking officer. She thought the entire position seemed inferior to Ben’s experience.

Then again, she had never met Arnold. Ben had written about him enough that it gave Molly the impression that they could possibly be new friends.

Wanting to help, but quite knowing what to do, Molly began her response with this:

_Ben,_

_In regard to your recent job offer and dilemma: Do what I would do._

It was a terrible compromise, but it was a compromise after all. She just hoped it would be enough to help him decide.

* * *

She left her note at the dead drop, and she waited. Nearly a week went by. She was beginning to use Ben’s letters as an excuse not to ask Anna about the affair. But finally she received a reply:

_Molly,_

_I mulled over your ~~poor excuse for a~~ reply for several days. Finally, I made up my mind and went to see General Arnold. I decided to accept the decision. I was prepared to sacrifice my time and energy into assisting a superior who I have come to admire._

_Oh, Molly. How I wish you were here to meet these men in person. I know it’s difficult to send any suggestions or advice regarding men you have only ever heard of._ _As I spoke to him about the position, he inquired what my current duties included. I admitted that I was on special assignment for Washington, serving in intelligence – I know what you want to say! I agree, it was a foolish thing to admit!_

 _Upon hearing this, Arnold stared me in the face and said, ‘Where is the personal honor in that?’_ _I felt as if I had been slapped in the face. He wasn’t finished though, because then he said, ‘You can be a spy, or you can be a soldier, but you can’t be both’._

_You can probably guess what happened in regard to the aide-de-camp position: I did not accept. And now I have thought about those words for many hours now. And, for I believe the first time in my life, I feel as if I am a coward. Have you ever had that thought before?_

_All my love._

***

_I am tired of being a coward._

The night after reading Ben’s update, Molly decided to finally ask the question.

Anna had been gone most of the day. She was visiting Mary more frequently at Whitehall. She had also decided to accept Hewlett’s friendship. So, she was spending more time with him as well.

Molly waited until they were in their room preparing to go to bed. Molly was already in her nightgown, sitting in bed with the covers pulled over her lap. She watched Anna as unpinned her hair and dressed in her nightgown. As soon as Anna crawled onto her side of the bed, Molly blurted the question.

“Did you have an affair with Abraham?”

She gave her sister-in-law no warning, no pleasantries beforehand, and no context. Anna froze and slowly turned to look over at her.

“What?” she asked in disbelief.

“I don’t mean when you two were still engaged.” Molly didn’t miss a beat. “I mean, did you have a _recent_ affair with Abraham?”

Anna laughed faintly, but it was out of shock and confusion.

“Molly-”

Molly did not know much, but she knew how she would respond if someone accused her of this. And Anna was not behaving like she would.

Molly scoffed and shook her head, “It’s true then!”

Anna grabbed Molly’s arm. She did not deny it.

“No, Molly, listen to me…” She was stammering, unsure of what to say. “It was only because we believed Selah to be dead.”

“And did you believe Mary to be dead as well?”

Molly could feel tears welling up in her eyes. They were angry tears. Disappointed tears.

“Molly-”

“Do not make excuses for yourself.” Molly spat, pulling her arm out of Anna’s grip. “I trusted you, I trusted _both_ of you, and now you are risking everything. And for what?”

“Molly, will you listen to me?”

Anna’s voice was rising as she tried to get a word in. Molly refused to let her. She was so enraged.

“Do you have any idea what I have been doing to convince Mary that this entire affair was just a misunderstanding? And now it turns out _I’m_ the fool. How could you do this to Selah?”

“Molly, it is over!” Anna hissed. “Abe and I have not seen each other since we learned that Selah was alive.”

Molly shook her head. So many things made sense to her now. She didn’t want to just drop this subject.

“You were supposed to leave with Selah.” Molly continued. “He wanted you to go. But you jumped from his whaleboat and swam back to shore. _Why_? You claim it was for the cause, but you knew well enough that I was already staying… You jumped from that boat because you had a much more selfish reason. You abandoned your husband, you betrayed my brother, because of some long dead romance. Face it, Anna, Abe ended your engagement. Why can’t you both get over it?!”

Anna laughed aloud.

“These are brash words coming from you!” she challenged. “Considering how much you relied on my generosity over the years. Do not forget, your fiancé left you as well. Except it’s different, because he _continues_ to leave you.”

“It was my choice to stay.” Molly growled.

“ _Your_ choice? Yes, and a noble choice to.” Sarcasm dripped from Anna’s mouth. “Do you have any idea what our neighbors have said over the years? _Poor Molly Strong_. Her man chose the rebels over her, and the girl is too foolish to move on… _Pathetic Molly Strong_ , who has waited two years for a man who had not written once. Yet she is still eager to please… Even though I can guarantee that your precious Benjamin has probably slept with every whore who follows the Continental Army!”

That’s when Molly hit her. She lashed out and wrestled Anna out of bed. They fell to the floor in a heavy heap. Even as they fought, they were still trying to keep their voices down, so no one would discover them.

Anna knew from experience how hard Molly could punch, so she desperately clawed at the other woman’s hair. Molly winced in pain and tried to kick Anna off of her. Their fight did not escalate beyond a few thrown elbows, a kick to the shins, and a slap to the face.

“This is stupid! We can’t get into a fight!” Anna finally said, shoving Molly away.

As much as Molly wanted to pummel her sister-in-law, she knew she was right. They couldn’t get into a fight without injuring each other. And no one could know they were fighting. It would draw far too much unwanted suspicion.

They saw on the floor, glaring at each other as they caught their breath. Molly still felt like crying, but she was too angry to let any tears fall. After a few minutes, they got to their feet and crawled back into the bed.

After they blew out the candles, they slept back to back. They laid there in silence for a long time. Both of them were too upset to think about sleep. They were both lost in thought, playing through the conversation and scuffle they had just had.

Finally, Molly’s voice pierced through the darkness.

“I’m tired of protecting you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a couple of things:
> 
> Washington's characterization is not entirely historically accurate. The writers made him a lot more uptight for the show to add conflict, and I understand that, so I'm including the inaccuracies.
> 
> I also talk a lot about cowardice in this chapter bc I wish the show went more in depth on that detail. Spying was considered cowardly during this time period.
> 
> I would like to defend my characterization of Anna in this chapter (and in upcoming chapters). I this fic, we have already established that Anna and Molly do not necessarily like each other; they more put up with each other because they are family and because of Selah. In the show, Anna has to keep her emotions in check bc she's almost always the one with the least amount of power/influence in the room. So, that explains why we never really saw Anna get into heated arguments throughout the series.
> 
> But I can definitely see Anna trying to keep the affair a secret from Molly; and I can totally see Anna being annoyed with the fact that Molly and Ben are sneaking around as well and writing letters to each other. Anna totally would hold resentment towards them bc their engagement was called off just like Anna and Abe's engagement. But it's different for Ben and Molly bc neither of them were forced to wed other people... yet (idk, may or may not happen... gotta keep you on your toes >u< )


	15. 2x05

**December 1777**

_Molly,_

_I apologize for the lack of correspondence. I am afraid I well overestimated my ability to write under the present circumstances. We have finished settling into our camp for the winter. We are in Pennsylvania at a place called Valley Forge. The weather has already proven to be harsh, and Washington expects no attacks upon our army until the ground can thaw in Spring._

_I understand the pressures you and Anna face. However, I am afraid that your latest intelligence has proven to be lacking in comparison to previous months. Washington is stressing the importance of discovering information regarding Philadelphia. He wishes to retake the city at some point. I pray my words do not trouble you so. In any case, this will be the first year you receive a proper Christmas letter from me. I’ll admit, I look forward to writing more than two sentences this year._

_All my love._

Ben’s latest message did not surprise Molly. She was aware that over the last couple of weeks, there had been a substantial lack of gossip at the tavern. The fact was, the King’s Army was in the same position as Washington’s Army. It was winter and the first snow had fallen long ago. Everyone was tucking in for the winter, waiting for the thaw to come in several months’ time. 

Molly tucked the letter into her bodice and made her way back downstairs to the main floor of the tavern. She and Anna exchanged a glance, and the women quickly found spots working on opposite sides of the tavern. The past two months had been just that: tense. After learning the truth about the affair, Molly’s anger had faded within a few days. _It was over_. It was time to bury the past. But no matter, how much she could forgive, Molly was struggling to forget.

What Molly hated the most about the argument with her sister-in-law were the comments Anna made. Molly could remember every word.

_Do not forget, your fiancé left you as well. Except it’s different, because he continues to leave you._

_Poor Molly Strong… Pathetic Molly Strong… who has waited two years for a man who had not written once. Yet she is still eager to please… Even though I can guarantee that your precious Benjamin has probably slept with every whore who follows the Continental Army!_

Although Anna said those words out of anger, Molly was beginning to doubt herself. What if there was truth in Anna’s words? Molly felt guilty, but her letters to Ben over the last two months had been brief. She stopped including personal details like she had before. Her reports were becoming strictly that: reports.

Despite her own anxieties, Molly understood that there were more pressing matters, like Abe’s work in York City. Between his studies and spying and avoiding the soldier Hewlett assigned to guard him, Abe was also trying to recruit a new member for the ring. Abe refused to disclose much about the potential spy in York City. All Molly knew was that his name was Townsend.

Except for that, business had proceeded as usual in Setauket. Both Molly and Anna continued to make visits to Whitehall. Molly still visited Mary frequently. As for Anna, she had become close friends with Major Hewlett. After accepting his friendship, she discovered that she enjoyed the Major’s company. He often invited her to meals at Whitehall or she visited the church when he was on duty. Molly was glad for Anna and Hewlett, but she also found the entire situation quite humorous; mostly because, she herself considered the Major’s company to be dull.

Either way, Molly was glad for the mundaneness. That was what she missed the most about life before the war.

* * *

It was a slow Thursday afternoon at the tavern. There was only one customer drinking, so Molly began to sweep the floor. Abe was in York City until the end of the week, so there was no news from Ben or Caleb.

Because there was little to do, Molly lent Cicero the latest book she had borrowed from Whitehall. The young boy had gone to hide in the back-storage room to read. Anna decided to go outside and retrieve some water from the water pump outside. Things were quiet… until they weren’t.

Molly heard commotion outside. She heard a horse galloping and then coming to a stop, and then she heard voices shouting. She went to the storage room and knocked once on the door, to warn Cicero to hide the book. Then she abandoned her broom and stepped out of the tavern. She saw a tall man standing beside Anna at the water pump. His back was turned to her, but he was wearing a green and black uniform. Both the man and Anna were looking at Major Hewlett, who was accompanied by a handful of his soldiers. Hewlett had a scowl on his face. Although she was fifty to a hundred paces away, she heard their conversation clearly.

“You! How dare you show your face in this place again?” Hewlett spat.

“Please, Major,” the man beside Anna said, “there's no need for apology. It's good to see you.”

Molly froze. She recognized that voice.

“An apology?” Hewlett scoffed.

“Yes, I've already chosen to forgive past transgressions and begin anew.”

There were a dozen or so soldiers wearing the same green uniform. She recognized another one of the men. Unlike the other men, he had dark skin. She quickly realized that she was looking at Jordan, Selah’s former slave.

“This is not a military uniform.”

The man agreed, “Not a regular's, no. It's fallen to me to take command of His Majesty's irregulars. The Queen's Rangers. I think I finally understand the burden of a full command.”

“Killing men in cold blood is hardly a leadership quality.”

“In the meantime, while my men camp there, I require more domestic accommodations.”

The man turned his head to look down at Anna, and that’s when Molly caught sight of the man’s profile. Her entire body felt numb. It was John Graves Simcoe.

“Your tavern, Mrs. Strong, should do nicely.” Simcoe commented.

“Of course, Captain.” Anna replied, looking uncomfortable.

Before Molly could feel any sort of fear for her sister-in-law, Anna said something that renewed all the ill-feelings Molly was trying to forget.

“You're more than welcome to rest in my room.” Anna said. “It's perfect timing, actually. Major Hewlett had just this morning offered me lodging at Whitehall and I've accepted with gratitude.”

_What?_

“It was the least that I could do.” Hewlett added to make the lie appear genuine.

Molly wanted to scream. She had no idea how or why Simcoe back in Setauket, but now Anna was fleeing to Whitehall, and she was offering for Simcoe to stay at the tavern in the room that she and Molly shared.

“I fear it may not be enough.” Simcoe continued. “My men have heard rumors of rebels raiding private homes all across Long Island. I worry that Whitehall may not be as safe as it once was.”

“Thank you for your concern,” Hewlett replied, all the anger gone from his voice, “but I can assure you, this town is quite safe since dangerous elements were chased out of it last spring.” He turned to Anna, “Have my men collected your baggage yet as per your request?”

“I... I believe they were just about to.”

Anna stepped away from Captain Simcoe and stood beside Major Hewlett. The pair of liars linked arms as Hewlett began to escort her away from the tavern.

* * *

Molly quickly entered the tavern and disappeared to the storage room where Cicero was still reading. She closed the door calmly, and Cicero watched her as she punched one of the walls. She began quietly muttering and cursing as she punched the wall a second time, and then a third time.

 _How could she?_ Molly internally screamed. _How could she leave me here with him?_

Cicero watched her silently, unfazed by her sudden act of rage.

_I hate her! I hate her. I hate her._

After Molly had stopped assaulting the wall, she swore again as she cradled her raw hand to her chest. The knuckles on her right hand were bleeding.

“You alright, Ms. Molly?” he asked casually.

She closed her eyes and deeply inhaled.

“Yes.” She said hoarsely.

She walked over to one side of the room and retrieved a rag from one of the storage shelves. She quickly tied it around her bloodied hand.

“Can you do me a favor?” she asked. “Go outside and let me know if Simcoe is waiting out there.”

“ _Captain_ Simcoe?” Cicero clarified. He was taken aback.

“Yes.”

The boy shrugged and did as Molly asked. After a few moments, he returned.

“Yeah, he’s out there. He asked to see you.”

Molly took another deep breath. She was trying to prevent herself from having a panic attack. It didn’t matter how upset she was with Anna for abandoning her, she was more terrified at facing Captain Simcoe.

“Listen to me.” She said quietly. “Anna’s gone to stay at Whitehall. It’s just going to be you and me for a while.”

Cicero nodded, not understanding why Molly was so upset. The boy had never been mistreated by the Captain as Molly had been.

“Well, alright.” He agreed.

Molly nodded and looked at him, “Alright.”

She stood up straight, with her shoulders back, and she left the storage room to face her fears. _I will not be a coward._ The thought was on a loop in her mind, but it wasn’t helping.

Captain Simcoe was waiting beside the bar. He was alone. He seemed to perk up when he caught sight of her.

“Ms. Strong.” He greeted.

“Sir.”

“It is good to see you again.”

Molly only looked at him in response. She stepped behind the bar and retrieved a mug.

“Can I get you anything?” she asked.

She didn’t wait for his response. She filled the mug with ale and placed it in front of Simcoe. He glanced at the mug but didn’t touch it, and then he looked back at her. He didn’t say anything either. They stood like that for several seconds.

“I have come to seek lodging.” He finally said.

Molly grabbed the mug that was sitting in front of him. Her voice was steady as she said, “Aye. I’ll make up a room for you.” She lifted the mug to her lips and took a long swig, then she placed it back on the bar.

She walked away and made her way up the stairs. She felt as if she was dreaming, but she didn’t stop herself from completing the plan she was already crafting in her mind. She entered her shared bedroom and began packing all of hers and Anna’s things into two bags. They did not own much, so it took no time at all. She then got to work stripping the bed. She left the sheets in a pile on the ground and remembered to collect all the letters she had saved from Ben and her codebook. She hid them in her bag.

She dumped both bags and the pile of sheets outside the door. She walked to the end of the hall to collect fresh sheets, and then returned to her old bedroom. She got to work pulling the fresh sheets over the mattress. She had just started when she noticed someone watching her. She turned, and there was Simcoe, standing in the doorframe.

She noticed a hint of confusion in his eyes, but she ignored him and continued with her work.

He cleared his throat, “Allow me.” He began to walk over to where she was beside the bed. He reached out to assist her, but she quickly moved to block him.

“I can manage.”

He did not offer any more assistance. Instead, he watched her from the much closer distance. After several more seconds of this, he spoke, “I understand. You want an apology.”

She scoffed, “I _want_?”

This was the only way she was going to get over her fear of Simcoe; she had to pretend that she was unafraid.

“I _owe_ you an apology.” He corrected. She didn’t say anything, so he continued, “Ms. Strong, I admit my error. I believed you to be in league with the rebels. It was unfair of me to judge your character based on your family’s beliefs and your former engagement.”

“And when did you come to this startling realization?” she snapped.

Her heart was hammering in her chest. She was tucking the pillows into the pillowcases now.

“Your brother and Benjamin Tallmadge led the attack upon Setauket. Yet you remained here, and to my understanding, you hardly spoke to either man… And you did all this without knowledge of my arrest or court-martial.” A beat. “I remember how fondly you spoke of your brother, yet you refused to leave with him… Ms. Strong, I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”

He said that last line right as she had finished pulling the quilt onto the bed. She tucked the blankets into the side of the mattress, making the sheets as flat as could be.

“You continue to misjudge me, sir.” She said, straightening up and fixing her dress. “I forgive you, but I will never forget.”

She did not give him a chance to respond. She exited the room, collecting the bags and the old sheets before descending back down the stairs.

* * *

One of the soldiers came for Anna’s bag that evening. After surrendering her bedroom, Molly had moved into the small room where Cicero slept.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m your new roommate.”

The only things in Cicero’s small bedroom – which was more like a closet – was a cot and a nightstand. She had already decided that she was going to sleep on the floor.

Cicero was not discouraged by her decision. In fact, he laughed. He seemed excited about have a roommate. Before his mother Abigail had been sent to York City, she and Cicero had shared a room their entire lives.

“You don’t like the Captain _that_ much?” he chuckled.

Molly nodded and left her bag on the ground. While Cicero went back to his work, Molly hurried to the storage room once more. There was a fireplace there. She closed the door behind her and pulled the letters from Ben out of her bodice. She quickly looked over his handwriting, knowing it might be a long time before she saw it again. Then, with a heavy heart, she threw all the papers into the fire. She watched them burn until there was nothing left.

She felt sad, but her doubts also helped her make the decision. _It’s for the best_ , she told herself. _It’s too dangerous with Simcoe here_.

* * *

She did not run into Captain Simcoe until that night. With Anna gone to Whitehall, Molly found herself forced to cover both of their shifts. Cicero was helping, but it didn’t change the fact that the tavern was packed.

She bustled around, filling mugs and collecting empty cups. Despite this, she could not avoid the Captain. She placed a drink in front of Simcoe. He was sitting alone at the tavern. She hadn’t seen Jordan or any of the other Rangers since they first arrived in town. She hoped to quickly escape Simcoe’s table, but then he opened his mouth.

“Ms. Strong, you seem distressed.” He commented.

“Do I?” she asked, trying to keep her voice emotionless.

“I am curious. What is troubling you?”

She offered a casual chuckle.

“It’s none of your concern, Captain... Women’s business.”

He didn’t look convinced though. She moved to turn away, but what he said next, made her freeze.

“Sit.”

She turned to look at him

“Sorry?

“You heard me. Sit with me for a moment.”

Like her, Simcoe was masking his emotions. Their tones were even similar.

“I cannot. Mr. DeJong will dock my pay.” Molly tried to protest.

“Do not worry about that man. If he gives you trouble, I will speak with him.”

Molly reluctantly sat in the chair across from the Captain. Although she wanted to appear unafraid, she was still wary of what would happen if she refused the man.

Simcoe took a brief drink from his mug before saying, “May I call you Molly?

“You may not.”

“You may call me John, _if you like_.”

Her eyebrows knitted in confusion. What was he doing?

“What is the purpose of this?” she decided to ask.

“I’ve only asked you to sit with me while I finish my drink. Do you really believe my motives to be sinister?”

“Yes,” she admitted. She was shocked she had said it out loud, but it did not stop her from adding, “It is no secret that I do not like you.”

Simcoe silently chuckled as he took another drink. “And you have every reason not to. Ms. Strong, when I was last here, I offered you my friendship. I understand I betrayed your trust with my accusations. For that, I am sorry.” He took another drink. “If I were to offer my friendship again, may I know what your answer would be?”

His tone was genuine. It was the first time she had heard him without a mocking undertone to his words. She was unsure what to make of all of this.

“How are you back? In Setauket I mean. I thought you were court-martialed.” She changed the subject.

Another drink, “I was. I was assigned to secretarial duties in Philadelphia.”

Molly perked up at that comment. _Philadelphia?_

“Things changed, and I found myself with the opportunity to take command of the Queen’s Rangers. After all, they are not military.”

That was true. The Queen’s Rangers worked as mercenaries and bounty hunters. They were loyal to the Crown, but not limited by the laws and traditions of the King’s Army.

“And… now you’ve been assigned here?” she asked.

“Unfortunately, no. In fact, I have orders to search for a hidden traitor on Oyster Bay. We're to deploy next week.”

Oyster Bay was the town a few miles down the coast. Ben hadn’t mentioned anyone operating there, but perhaps that knowledge was not allowed to be shared. Regardless, the new information eased Molly’s discomfort. Simcoe was not staying. He and his men were just passing through.

With the thought of Philadelphia on her mind, she decided to say, “Captain, I am grateful for the humility you have shown me. Although I will not forget what you have done, I am willing to put that chapter behind us.”

He smirked slightly, but then it was gone. “Thank you, Ms. Strong.”

“You may call me Molly, if you like.” She added.

She knew she was playing a dangerous game now, but she welcomed the adrenaline rush she got from it. Finally, she felt as if she was making some progress as one of Washington’s spies. Simcoe lifted his mug in a subtle toast.

“Molly.”

“John.”

* * *

That night, she and Cicero awoke to the sound of shouts and horses’ hooves beating outside. Molly quickly retrieved a tinderbox and lit a candle. She wrapped her blanket around herself and padded outside the tavern. She saw redcoats scrambling by. They were shouting orders, but she could barely make them out. She was still trying to shake the sleep from her head.

“What’s happened?” she called out to no one in particular.

One of the soldiers heard her and called back, “There’s been an attack at Whitehall. The rebels. Major Hewlett was captured.”

Molly’s breath hitched out of shock. Only one thought came to her mind. _Anna_. Her grip on the candle loosened, and it fell to the ground, hot wax splattering the front of her nightgown and her bare toes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was today years old when I learned it's spelled "unfazed" and not "unphased"...


	16. 2x06

It had been a restless night for Molly. As soon as she heard the news of Major Hewlett’s kidnapping, she ran around town, trying to find someone to take her to Whitehall. Her hair was loose and tangled, and she was still in her nightgown, but she didn’t care. She received the same answer again and again: She needed to return to her home and wait for further information. She refused to accept that, and she went on her way, pestering any soldier who would stop to speak with her.

She was about to corner another soldier when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned and there stood Captain Simcoe. He was dressed in his Rangers’ uniform, but she could tell he had dressed hastily; half the buttons on his coat were undone.

“Come.” He insisted, trying to steer her away.

She pushed him away, “Sir, please. Please at least tell me if anyone has been injured or killed. That’s all I ask.”

“I will make an enquiry. Now go, before I order your arrest.” He snapped.

After a few seconds, she complied. As much as she didn’t like it, she was going to have to trust him. As soon as she stepped back inside the tavern, she threw her blanket over the back of a chair and stepped behind the bar. She poured herself a drink and drained it in two gulps.

It didn’t help. She was still trembling; both from the cold and from worry. She was refilling her cup when Cicero wandered out into the main room.

“What’s going on?” he asked tiredly, rubbing his eyes.

“Major Hewlett’s been kidnapped by rebels.”

Molly drained her mug again and poured a third drink.

“Why would they do something like that?”

She paused, with the mug pressed to her lips. Cicero was right. Why _would_ the rebels want to capture Hewlett? He had negotiated with Ben without issue all those months ago. As far as she knew, he hadn’t had any interactions with the rebels since Ben’s attack on Setauket. She was still stood there when Simcoe entered the tavern. She placed her mug on the bar, preparing herself for the worst.

“And?” she asked.

“No one was harmed at Whitehall. The rebels simply broke in, stole the Major, and departed from Setauket.”

Molly cried out and buried her face in her hands. She was so relieved. That meant that Anna was okay. She nodded and quickly downed her next cup of ale.

“Thank you.” She said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“It’s my pleasure, Molly.”

Hearing him say her name made her skin crawl, but she hid her discomfort.

“Will you be alright?” he continued.

She nodded, walking over to Cicero and motioning for him to return to their room. As they began to leave, Simcoe added, “If you need anything, anything at all, please do not hesitate to ask.”

She paused and turned to acknowledge him.

“I’ll remember that.” Her voice almost cracked. “Good night, John.”

“Good night, Molly.”

* * *

“What’s with you being familiar with each other?” Cicero whispered as soon as they were back in their room.

Molly leaned back against the closed door, still trying to steady her racing heart. She closed her eyes, suddenly aware of her splitting headache.

“I’m just trying to survive, Cicero.” She replied.

He didn’t say anymore on the subject, and Molly didn’t feel the need to elaborate. He was a smart kid. After Cicero crawled back into his cot, Molly began digging in her bag for the code book. She found it and then collected a piece of parchment, some ink, and a quill. She could feel Cicero watching her over her shoulder, but suddenly she didn’t care.

“If I hear you breathing a word of this to anyone,” she warned, “I’ll skin you.”

Cicero chuckled but didn’t say anything. Molly wrote:

_Simcoe back in Setauket. Hewlett captured by rebels. Are you involved in this?_

She would find a way to leave the message at the dead drop tomorrow. But, now, she was tired. She tucked the note and the codebook back in her bag. And then she fell into a heap in the blankets on the floor. The ale was finally working, and she slept soundly for the remainder of the night.

* * *

It rained the entire day. Molly did her job absentmindedly. With the arrival of Simcoe and his men, the Queen’s Rangers crowded into the tavern for the majority of the day. With the alrger crowds than usual, Molly had no chance to sneak away. She couldn’t go to the dead drop and she hasn’t heard further word regarding the kidnapping. In fact, she had hardly had a conversation with anyone until evening came.

The tavern was at its busiest, full of soldiers and townspeople alike drinking and eating. A man was playing a fiddle in one of the main rooms. No matter where she turned, Molly could not escape the noise.

“Molly!”

She turned her head suddenly to see who had called her. It was Simcoe. _Of course_ , she thought disappointedly. He was sitting at a table with Jordan, Selah’s former slave. She approached the table, expecting them to request she refill their mugs.

“Wouldn’t you join us?”

She blinked, but she did not protest like the night before. To be honest, her feet were killing her, and she could use a drink. She set her pitcher down on the edge of the table and sat down in a chair beside Jordan, so that there was some distance between her and Simcoe.

“Jordan, it’s good to see you again.” She greeted.

“Akinbode… That’s my true name.”

It took Molly a second to understand what he was saying. Suddenly it clicked. Jordan was his Christian name because Jordan was not a slave born in the colonies. She remembered that Selah had purchased him only a few years back. He came directly from Africa.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She replied. “How do you say it? Akin-?”

“-Bode. Akinbode.”

“Akinbode.” She repeated, testing the name on her tongue. He nodded indicating she had said it correctly. A smile tugged at her lips, “I like that.”

Akinbode chuckled, “Thank you, Ms. Molly.” He turned his head suddenly, catching sight of someone. Molly followed his gaze and realized he was looking at Cicero. They smiled at each other. Akinbode rose without a word and went over to speak with him. Molly was glad to see them reunited. She remembered how close Akinbode had been with Abigail and her son.

“Would you consider yourself a supporter of slavery?”

Molly turned back to Simcoe. She was taken aback by the comment.

“Sorry?”

“Slavery. Do you support it, or are you against it?”

It was a strange question, but she answered anyway.

“I’m afraid I do not have an opinion.”

Simcoe scoffed, “Preposterous. You must favor one side over the other.”

“I’m afraid I don’t. I’ve never personally owned a slave, but many people I know do. Those I know are good people.”

“And those who are enslaved. Aren’t they good people as well?”

“Of course. Take Cicero for example. I’m quite fond of the boy.”

“Aye, but is he fond of his position?”

Molly thought about it. To be honest, she’d never really thought about it. She got along with Cicero well enough, just as she had with Abigail and Akinbode. But did they truly get along with her, or did they just do so out of fear?

“Why are you asking me this?” she asked.

Simcoe shrugged and took a drink, “We are allies now, are we not? I like to know where my allies stand.”

 _Allies_. That was one way of looking at it.

“Let’s discuss Akinbode for a moment.” Simcoe continued. “Did you know I made him my second-in-command?”

Molly blinked in surprise. “No, I did not.”

“What is your opinion on my decision?”

As strange as the conversation was, Molly found herself enjoying it. She typically only ever exchanged pleasantries with people. Actually, the more she thought about it, she hadn’t had a proper debate with anyone since the war began. People were too on edge, and most of her friends were either gone or disguising their true nature.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.” She admitted.

“If you were one of my men, and you had to follow orders from him. What would your opinion be?”

She suddenly forgot any ill-feelings she felt towards Simcoe. She was too wrapped up in her thoughts, strategizing.

After a moment, she said, “If I was a soldier, and if you were my commanding officer, then it would not matter who was second-in-command. I would have to trust your discretion. So, I would follow Akinbode’s orders as if they were your own.”

Simcoe chuckled slightly as he took another drink. He seemed pleased by her answer.

“I wish more of my men saw things like you.” He commented.

Molly was taken aback. _Was that a compliment? Is Captain John Graves Simcoe complimenting me?_

“So, on the question of slavery.” Molly said next. “I suppose you are against it?”

Simcoe shifted his gaze over to where Akinbode was speaking with Cicero, “Precisely.”

Before they could continue their off exchange, Simcoe perked up as he caught sight of something over Molly’s shoulder.

“Excuse me.” He muttered, rising to his feet.

Molly watched him as he followed Cicero to one of the rooms behind the bar. She jumped at the sound of her name.

“Ms. Strong! More ale please!”

She hurried to her feet and collected her pitcher. She could continue the conversation at another time. She went around refilling mugs and collecting dirty dishes. After a few minutes, she saw Simcoe walk back into the room. He did not return to his table. Instead, he approached her.

His manner seemed stiffer than when he had left, “I believe you sister-in-law has returned.”

That was all he said, then he walked away. Molly quickly finished her current task and then hurried to the back room. Anna was beginning to walk up the back staircase, but the two women saw each other. Molly laughed aloud and embraced her sister-in-law.

“I heard what happened. Are you alright?”

“I am fine.” Anna insisted.

“And the Major?”

“No, it’s true. They took Edmund.”

Anna had begun referring to Hewlett by his first name. It was not unusual; that’s what friends did, after all.

“The men last night,” she continued, “they claimed that Hewlett killed their leader in cold blood. But it doesn’t make sense. They claim he was killed two night ago. But Edmund has not left Setauket in months.”

It was strange. Molly would’ve continued to question her, but that’s when she noticed Cicero standing near the staircase, with Anna’s bag in his arms.

“Are you moving back in?” she asked.

“What? Oh, yes. Abraham’s father was not too keen on hosting me any longer.”

Molly tried to say more, but Anna shushed her.

“Cicero, go ahead. I’ll be right there.” Anna said.

Cicero nodded and made his way out of the room. Anna pulled Molly to the side and dragged her into the small closet under the staircase. They both crouched inside, and Anna began speaking in a hushed voice.

“Molly, I am sorry to leave you in that position yesterday, and I know you are angry with me. But listen. Before he was taken, I had convinced Edmund to invite you to Whitehall. He was supposed to collect you today.” Anna didn’t give Molly a chance to react. Because then she said, “There’s something else. This morning, a soldier arrived at Whitehall, requesting to speak with Edmund… Abraham’s been arrested in the city. They believe him to be a patriot spy.”

Molly felt as if the walls were closing in around her. It was so much information to take in at once. Anna noticed her sister-in-law’s distress.

“Anna, what are we going to do?” Molly asked. Her voice was shaking, and she was close to tears. And her breathing had quickened.

Anna placed her hands on Molly’s shoulders. Suddenly, Molly understood what it was like for Anna the day Selah was arrested. Their roles had suddenly been reversed. Molly was the one panicking now.

“No, listen. The man who came to the house, he said that he needed to speak with Edmund in order to free Abe from prison. Abe was not arrested because of _us_ ; he was caught pretending to be a patriot when he was spying for Edmund.”

Molly digested that information for a moment.

“So, if Edmund is rescued?

“Aye, then Abe will be as well.”

“We have to write to Ben.” Molly was struggling to keep her voice down.

“I already have.”

Molly was suddenly grateful that Anna had abandoned her yesterday. Unknowingly, Molly was the perfect decoy to distract Simcoe from inquiring about Anna or Abe’s whereabouts. Despite their new alliance, Molly was sure that Simcoe still had a vendetta against Abe.

“How do we go about rescuing Edmund?” Molly asked.

“Caleb will receive our letter and then Washington will order the rebels to release him.”

“Aye, exactly.”

“We’re going to be okay.” Anna said.

Molly laughed quietly, and she couldn’t agree more. _Ben and Caleb will come through_ , she thought.

* * *

Two weeks passed. Their messages had been collected at the dead drop, but there was no response from Ben or Caleb. However, there was news from the rebels who kidnapped Major Hewlett. They were holding him across the water in Connecticut.

Despite how close they were, no attempts had been made to rescue Major Hewlett – Setauket’s acting commanding officer, Captain Wakefield refused to send a search party for he believed it to be too dangerous. There was also no word from Abe, who was still imprisoned in York City.

It was nearly Christmas, but Molly had never felt less festive in her life. Although she and Anna feared for both Hewlett and Abe, Molly was also working on a different project. It was the very reason for her alliance to Simcoe: information regarding Philadelphia.

Molly was unsure why, but as soon as Anna returned to the tavern, Simcoe’s friendliness dissipated. However, it did not dissuade her from attempting to converse with the man.

“You said you traveled here from Philadelphia.” She commented one afternoon.

Simcoe did not so much as glance at her as he replied, “Yes.”

“You know, there was a time when I was supposed to move there.”

She had decided that the best lies always included hints of the truth. However, Captain Simcoe seemed disinterested in any rumors she offered him about her life. She quickly found herself back to where she started: lacking useful information.

One afternoon, Mary visited the tavern. Molly was surprised to see her, and she found herself even more surprised when Mary told her that she wished to speak with Anna. Molly left them to speak and did not interfere. Anna told her about their conversation later that afternoon when they were alone.

“Mary has tried appealing to loyalist families she knows. She has written letters, and she had repeatedly discussed the matter with Captain Wakefield. No one will release Abe without Edmund’s approval.” Anna explained.

“What about Abe’s father? Is there nothing he can do about any of this?” Molly asked.

“Mary’s already spoken with him. He refuses to interfere.”

“The bastard.” Molly hissed under her breath. His principles were going to get Abe killed.

“Then what are we to do?” Molly asked. “We haven’t heard anything in over two weeks.”

Anna looked down at their feet.

“Mary made a suggestion.”

“Yes?” Molly urged her to continue.

“I told her about your newly acquired friendship with Simcoe. We wonder if you might speak with him.”

She scoffed, “Me? You really think _I_ can sway him? The man hardly speaks to me. I do not know why, but whatever alliance he was trying to forge, he quickly abandoned it.”

Anna continued to look down, avoiding looking Molly in the eye. Something was wrong.

“What is it?” Molly asked.

Anna bit her lip. “I may know why that is.”

Molly felt her heart sink. Even though she was involved in everything – related to the spy ring – she was still constantly feeling as if she was being left out.

“What did you do?” she asked warily.

“The day I came back here,” Anna explained, “I told the man what I really thought of him.”

Molly cursed. She could only imagine what Anna had said to him. No wonder he had stopped speaking to her, he probably thought that the Strong women were gossiping about him behind his back – which they were, but they didn’t want him to know anyhow.

“Well that was a stupid thing to do.” She snapped.

“I’m sorry, Moll… Listen, you told me those first two days he arrived, he treated you with kindness.”

Those were not Molly’s exact words.

“In a way, yes.”

“Then please, appeal to his kindness.”

“And what will that do?

“The Rangers are not military. Simcoe can operate under his own orders, if he wanted to. He could easily take his men and cross the water to Connecticut.”

Molly chewed on the inside of her cheek, in thought. Anna was right.

“Why can’t you just apologize to him?” Molly decided to ask.

Anna looked away. She seemed embarrassed.

“I do not want to.” She admitted.

Molly scoffed with disbelief. “Right, so your pride is going to get Abe and Edmund killed?”

Anna grabbed her sister-in-law’s hand.

“Molly. Please.” She begged.

 _Unbelievable_ , Molly thought. She pulled her hand out of Anna’s grip.

“Alright.” She growled. “I’ll speak with him.”

For the first time in a long time, Molly no longer felt as if she was a coward.

* * *

That evening, Molly went to her former bedroom. She nodded on the door, and after a moment, the door opened, and Simcoe was standing there.

“Ms. Strong. To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked. There was a hint of suspicion in his tone.

“May I come in?”

He eyed her for a second, then stepped aside. She slipped into the room and he closed the door behind them.

“Ironically, I have come to offer you an apology.” She faintly chuckled, trying to lighten the mood, but it didn’t work.

Simcoe walked over to the dresser beside the bed and began to poor himself a drink. There was a mostly empty bottle of whiskey there and a small shot glass there.

Molly remained near the door. She chewed on her upper lip, trying to think of how to approach this.

“I did not know. Anna only just told me of how she confronted you.” She breathed in. “I am here, and Anna is not because she is embarrassed to face you. She is aware of our alliance, and she has asked me to act as a mediator between the two of you.”

He said nothing as he began to sip at the whiskey.

“In her defense,” she added, “Anna was still ‘still reeling from the kidnapping at Whitehall. A distress aggravated by the loss of Major Hewlett's protection’… Her words. Not mine.”

He perked up at that statement. “The Major’s _protection_?”

“Aye,” Molly stepped further into the room. “During your absence, the Major offered her his friendship. She accepted. They have become close friends over the past months.”

“Why are you here, Ms. Strong?”

Molly let out a sigh of relief. She was glad she no longer had to dance around the subject. She stepped closer to him, so that they were beside each other now

“Captain Wakefield knows where Hewlett is being held but will do nothing.” She explained, her tone becoming more authoritative. “But you have your own force of men and if you-”

He cut her off. “You wish for me to rescue Major Hewlett? The man who had me court-martialed?”

“Aye.”

“I admit, I'm indeed anxious to show my forgiveness,” he backtracked, “but I must also follow orders. You know I am stationed here to hunt for rebels in Long Island, not to make forays into enemy-held Connecticut. Besides, we’re to deploy to Oyster Bay next week.”

She couldn’t lose control of the conversation. She was so close to a compromise. So, she reached out and took his hand and held it in hers.

“John, you have every reason to be upset.” She remembered the words he had used with her when he first returned. “But I am not asking you to do this for Anna’s sake. I am asking that you do it for me… We are friends, are we not?” she added.

He did not respond for quite some time. Finally, he said, “Good night, Molly.”

“Good night.”

As soon as she was back in the hallway, she let out the breath she had been holding the entire conversation. She silently leaned against the wall and slid to the floor. _I just flirted with Captain Simcoe_. She still could not stand the man, but it had to be done. This wasn’t about Hewlett, it never was. It was about saving Abe. She just hoped that Simcoe didn’t figure that out.

* * *

The next morning, Molly noticed that several of the Rangers were packing their things in the main tavern floor.

“What’s happened?” she asked one of the men.

“We’re heading out.” He replied vaguely.

Molly felt a twinge of excitement. She rushed outside the tavern, and, sure enough, the Rangers outside by the dock. They were loading supplied into whaleboats. Molly smiled and quietly laughed in disbelief. _It had worked_.

“Morning, Ms. Strong.”

She turned to look at Simcoe. He had walked up behind her.

“And a lovely morning it is, too.” He added.

She feigned ignorance. “I thought your company was to deploy next week. Are you heading to Oyster Bay?”

“Yes, but by way of Connecticut.”

“Connecticut?”

“I thought we might take a little detour to rescue my dear colleague Edmund Hewlett.”

She could no longer hold back a grin.

“Thank you.” And she meant it.

“Why, of course.” His tone was casual, but she sensed a hint of arrogance in his voice. “Your overture reminded me why I fight. Not for personal gain, but because I have a duty to uphold to my fellow officers and to the women who love them.”

Her smile faded.

“My only satisfaction will be in slaying our enemies and meriting your esteem. Killing two birds with one stone, as it were.”

“I will not forget this.” She promised.

His expression changed, “Well, given the dangers we face and the possibility that I may not return, there's one favor I'll be bold enough to request.”

She raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to finish.

“A kiss.”

Her stomach twisted into a knot.

“What?” she stammered.

“I know it is not much, but after all, _we are allies_. So, I'll treasure the memory all the same.”

Molly suddenly understood. _I am a fool_.

This entire time, she thought she had the upper hand. But now she knew, she was being manipulated by Simcoe. The friendship, the conversations about their alliance, all of it had been to set her up for this moment here.

Simcoe did not want her friendship any more than he wanted her forgiveness. He could now use their newfound alliance, and her appeal to rescue Hewlett, against her. This was the first way he would belittle her.

“Of course.” She finally said, her voice cracking.

He quickly closed the space between them. Molly only meant for it to be a quick peck on the lips, but suddenly, his hands were on her shoulders, holding her against him. She screwed up her face in discomfort but did not fight him.

The kiss only lasted a few seconds, but to Molly, it felt like an eternity. As he pulled away, he said goodbye.

“Madam.” He bowed his head slightly.

And then he was gone. Walking to the whaleboats at the dock. She wiped her mouth with her sleeve as soon as his back was turned. She was trembling with fear. In that moment, she did not care about Hewlett or Abe’s welfare. All she could think was, _What have I done?_


	17. 2x07

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A super short chapter bc this is the episode that focuses on Washington and Hewlett.

Some days were bad for Molly. She would begin pondering all that had happened in the last three years, and an overwhelming feeling of anxiety would wash over her. It was during those moments when Molly knew she was in a bad place. She had been in a bad place the last two ~~months~~ years, but she hadn’t truly realized it until recently.

The more she thought about it, the more depressed she became. She had had so many plans before the war. She was going to get married to a good man. They were going to move to the city.

She could still remember how excited she had been. All her life, she’d lived in Setauket; in the same small village with the same dozen neighbors or so. She had only visited cities a handful of times. She used to go with her father when he had business to attend to. In her mind, their plans were flawless. They were going to buy a house. They were going to start a family. And she had wanted all those things. She really had. But now she wasn’t so sure.

She never thought another war would break out. She was a teenager when the French and Indian War ended. Her father had fought in that war. Most of her neighbors’ fathers had. For a time, she remembered when they thought Selah might have to fight in it too. _That_ war was fought over land and territory. It was nothing like _this_ war.

 _This_ war was fought over ideas and money and government. “Are they daft?” she remembered her neighbors saying. Loyalists were loyal because they simply didn’t want war. Molly didn’t blame them. But, at the same time, what was it that made them so special? No one wants war. Ben and Caleb and Washington and King George and General Lee and General Arnold; Molly could guarantee that none of those people wanted war anymore that she did, or like the loyalists did.

But that didn’t matter. It didn’t change the fact that they _were_ at war.

Molly knew that she might be considered selfish, but, some days, she wanted out. Some days, she was sick of appeasing everyone. She was sick of hiding her true opinions. She was sick of being belittled by men like Simcoe and Judge Woodhull. She was sick of being belittled by people she was supposed to trust, like her own sister-in-law.

But what could she do about it? She was trapped. It wasn’t like she could just pack up and leave everything. That would only endanger everyone she knew and everyone she still cared about. But she wanted change. She was going to go crazy working in that tavern. She had tried to ignore the notion. But she also couldn’t ignore that that thought had been gnawing at her for ~~weeks~~ months ~~years~~.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter after bingeing both seasons of "the End of the F***ing World", and it shows.


	18. 2x08

“I'm sorry, we've closed.”

Molly walked down the stairs at the sound of Anna’s voice. She froze mid-step. By the entrance to the tavern was Captain Simcoe.

It had been a week since the Queen’s Rangers had left for Connecticut. In that week, there hadn’t been any news. They hadn’t heard from Captain Wakefield or the Rangers or the rebels or Ben. And now Simcoe was back.

“I've just returned from a long journey. I'm in need of a drink.” Simcoe said casually.

He was moving stiffly, and Molly noticed he was favoring his left side, almost as if he was injured. Anna stepped forward.

“Where is the major?” she asked, not hiding the excitement from her voice.

Simcoe’s expression was blank.

“Perhaps you should be seated.”

Anna was frozen where she stood. Both women were preparing themselves for the worst.

“He didn't return?” Anna’s voice broke.

“I did my best, Mrs. Strong.” There was no feeling in his voice. “The brutes murdered Hewlett before we arrived.”

Anna burst into tears. Despite everything, Anna grabbed Simcoe’s arm and leaned her weight against him. He pulled her into a brief hug, patting her back.

Molly tried keep her emotions under control, but it didn’t work. She muffled her sobs with her hand, and she felt the hot tears slide down her cheeks

He continued, “My sole consolation was meting out the same rough treatment they'd given him. I even sustained this wound… I'm here to console you if you so require. You're not alone.”

Their tears quickly stopped though. After a few moments, the tavern door opened again. And there stood Major Hewlett, dressed in his uniform. He was accompanied by two redcoats.

They stared at him in shock – even Simcoe. Anna lightly pushed away from Simcoe and rushed over, throwing her arms around Hewlett. She kissed him on the cheek.

“Good evening, Mrs. Strong.” He said calmly.

The Major had a black eye. He had obviously been in a fight. From her place on the stairs, Molly could see the Major and the Captain glaring at one another.

“I thought you were lost.” Anna gasped.

Hewlett weakly smiled.

“I feared for you, too.” He looked at Molly as he said it.

Molly silently held back a sob. Anna hadn’t been lying. The Major did intend to invite her to Whitehall. He knew – probably better than anyone – what kind of man Simcoe was.

“Major.” Simcoe stammered, “This is...”

Hewlett finished for him, “Somewhat of a surprise?”

“I did everything I could to rescue you, as my men will attest.”

Simcoe’s response was sudden. Molly’s eyes darted back and forth between the men. _No_ , she thought. _It can’t be_.

“I have no doubt of it. But I outwitted the rebels and escaped.” Hewlett paused. “Were you injured, Captain? Was it the young rebel lieutenant?”

“An adversary of no consequence.” Simcoe’s voice was tense.

And that’s when Molly figured it out. Simcoe had something to do with Hewlett’s kidnapping. Why else would the two be speaking in such a vaguely specific way? Then there was the comment about Simcoe’s injury. To her knowledge, this was the first time Hewlett and Simcoe were aware of each other both being in Setauket. Yet, Hewlett knew about the injury. _Had he wounded the Captain?_ Molly could only hope it was true.

“Hmm. Well, it is a pity that you sustained an injury.” Was Hewlett’s reply. “I do hope that it didn't cut too deeply.” He turned to Anna. “Mrs. Strong, I have come to escort you back to Whitehall. That is, if you are ready to travel.”

“I'll gather my things.” She said.

Hewlett turned his attention to Molly again.

“And _Ms_. Strong, may I have a word?”

Molly nodded. “Of course.”

While Anna hurried upstairs to collect her things, Molly stepped outside with the Major. They stepped away from the redcoats so they could speak privately.

“Are you quite alright?” Hewlett asked, in a whisper.

Molly wanted to laugh. “I believe I should be asking you that.”

“Before you inquire, yes, I have written to York City ordering for Abraham Woodhull’s release.”

Molly let out a shaky gasp in relief. Things were going to be okay.

Hewlett reached out and gently took her hand. “Ms. Strong, Anna told me everything. About how Captain Simcoe has made… advancements towards you.”

Molly looked down for a moment, but she nodded.

“Aye, he frightens me.”

“I am sorry. I am unsure if Anna spoke to you regarding the matter, but it was my intent to rescue you from his company. And I have every intention of pursuing that _now_.” He cleared his throat. Molly could tell he was in pain. “Ms. Strong, I know our interactions over the last year have been limited. And when we have been in each other’s company, it was for less than ideal reasons… But, please, let us forget about the past… Ms. Strong, it would be my honor to offer you my friendship and my protection.”

Molly felt fresh tears welling up in her eyes. They were not tears of sadness; she was moved by his kindness. He was still holding one of her hands, and she tightened her grip on him, suddenly not wanting to let go.

She gently kissed him on the lips. It was not a romantic kiss; it was a type of kiss shared between family members. “And I accept, Major. I do.” She said, her voice breaking.

He faintly smiled with relief. “Edmund, please.” He insisted.

She breathed out a small laugh, trying to keep her tears from streaming down her face.

“Molly, please.” She also insisted. Her smile fell. “Edmund, I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

His eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

She continued, “In your absence, Captain Simcoe offered me _his_ friendship. I accepted out of fear… Although I desperately want to stay at Whitehall, I believe it would be damning for both of us if I were to do so.”

“Molly-”

“He hates you as it is. Am I correct?”

Hewlett did not respond, and Molly knew it was true.

“Edmund, I _need_ to stay here.”

He shook his head, “No. No.” He released her hand and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Molly, I cannot protect you here. As long as _he_ is here, it is not safe.”

She agreed with him, but she also knew the dangers that may follow could be far worse if she left.

“I agree.” She said. “I only mean that the _time_ is not right. Christmas is only a few days away. If we wait until them, I believe I can find some excuse to escape to Whitehall.”

“What do you mean? Surely Mary has invited you to Whitehall for the celebrations.”

She bit her lip, “She did, but I’m afraid I had to decline. DeJong insists I work Christmas day.”

And that was the truth.

Selah always closed the tavern during the holidays. But DeJong was a different business owner. He did not care if his staff worked when he himself was at home. He saw the holiday as only another opportunity to make money.

Edmund swore under his breath. No matter how much he didn’t like it, he had to give Molly credit; her reasoning was sensible. It was strategic.

“Do you have a weapon?” he finally asked.

“Aye. Selah’s musket. It’s hidden in the tavern.”

“I recommend having it within reach.”

His words sent chills up her spine. She had seen him irritated before. Like at the trial last spring. But this was a different kind of anger. It was a calm anger. Suddenly, she wondered if he knew something she didn’t.

“Do you wish for me to explain this arrangement to Anna?” he asked.

She nodded, “Please. I’ll go back and try to appease Simcoe however I can.”

She started to separate from him, but his grip tightened on her arm.

“Molly… If he tries _anything_ , I am giving you permission to shoot him on sight. I will find a way to acquit of any or all charges.”

His expression had darkened. She looked at him for a few seconds, then she nodded. It felt surreal. She had thought it would be safe to form an alliance with a man like Simcoe. But now she understood her mistake. This entire time, Anna had been the clever one. Molly hadn’t believed her when she told her that Edmund was a loyal ally to have. But Molly was too blinded by her anger regarding the affair and her argument with Anna to realize that.

“Thank you.” That was all she could think to say.

And they parted ways. Just as Molly was walking back to the tavern door, Anna was exiting with one of the redcoats. He was carrying her bag.

Anna had a smile spread across her face. “Come on Molly, hurry up. I’ve already told Cicero to get his things.”

Molly took Anna’s hand in her own. She said nothing, and Anna’s smile faded. She knew that look.

“Have you lost your mind?” Anna hissed.

She didn’t respond. It wasn’t like this was a goodbye. They would see each other tomorrow. They both still worked at the tavern, after all. She released her sister-in-law and stepped back inside the tavern.

* * *

“Hey, put everything back. We’re not going anywhere.”

Cicero froze where he was stood beside the bar. He had his small bag of clothes slung over his shoulder. He had been talking to Akinbode.

The tavern had become considerably fuller in the last few minutes. The rest of Simcoe’s men had entered through the back door, and they were now all spread out at the tables. Chatting in hushed voices. All the men became silent when she stepped inside. She felt immediately unwelcomed.

She noticed that Simcoe was staring at her. He hadn’t been expecting this. He had expected her to flee to Whitehall; therefore, severing ties of their brief friendship.

“Ms. Strong.” He said. That was all he could think to say.

“Yes, John?”

Molly was aware of the Rangers’ eyes on her. She didn’t like speaking so informally, but she knew it was all she could do. No matter what doubts she had about everything, she understood the present danger. She was not foolish enough to let her emotions drive her.

When Simcoe said nothing else, Molly took control, “Well, seeing as you’re all here, may I offer you men some ale?”

“Aren’t we closed?” Cicero cut in.

Molly nodded, “Aye, but I’m sure Mr. DeJong would not mind.”

Cicero shrugged and set his bag down behind the bar. He began collecting mugs, and Molly joined him and found a pitcher. She filled all the mugs to the brim, and she began passing them out among the Rangers. The men’s conversation resumed. They were soon chatting loudly, the ale guiding their conversations.

“What news of the rebels?” she asked casually, handing Simcoe a drink.

He shrugged, “You’ll be happy to hear that we slaughtered every last one of them.”

Although he sounded just as passive as always, he still glared at her as he took a drink.

* * *

The men finished their drinks quickly enough and returned to their rooms either in the tavern or in the neighboring buildings – some of the men were sleeping in the stables next door, etc.

Molly and Cicero finished cleaning all the mugs and putting things back in their place. They were both exhausted. They were walking to their shared bedroom – Molly had continued to stay with Cicero despite everything with the kidnapping and the Rangers – when she was abruptly found herself cut off. As they were walking down the hallway, one of the doors had opened when they walked by. She stifled a gasp as she felt a hand grasp her wrist, holding her in place.

Cicero noticed and stopped. She waved for her to go on without her. Once he was further down the hallway, she turned to look at who had ahold of her. She already knew the answer: it was Captain Simcoe.

“A word, Ms. Strong.” He whispered.

She found herself roughly pulled into his quarters. Before she had a chance to protest, he had her pinned against one of the walls. He was a tall man, so he loomed over her, with his arms placed on the wall on either side of her. She was trapped. She tried not to show her fear.

“Yes, John?” she asked innocently.

She yelped as he slapped her across the face. Tears welled in her eyes, and her mouth was agape as she tried to ignore the stinging pain in her cheek. She tried to shove him away, but she quickly found herself in the same situation as that night in the cellar all those months ago.

He had one hand still placed on the wall beside her, and the other one was gripping her face. She could feel his fingers digging into her cheeks and jaw.

“Do not insult me. I am not a fool… You’ve made a deal with Hewlett.”

She couldn’t speak with his hand clamped on her face, so she tried to shake her.

“Do not lie to me.”

She struggled against him, her hands trying to pry him off her. After a few seconds, he removed his hand and slapped her again. She once again found herself gasping in pain, but she didn’t let it overcome her this time. She whipped her head around so that she was facing him again, and she spit in his face. It sprayed across his mouth and cheeks.

“I am not the one lying.” She hissed. “I thought we were allies. I know what you tried to do in Connecticut.”

He chuckled darkly. “Oh, and did the Major tell you everything?”

“No. I figured it out myself.” She shoved against him again. “How dare you betray me. When you left to rescue Hewlett, I believed it was because we were friends. Not because of some petty feud between the two of you.”

He looked at her for a moment. Molly wanted nothing more than to burst into tears from fright. But she had to wait. She had done well so far composing herself. And she could see the frustration in Simcoe’s expression. It was just like last year when he accused her of playing a role in Captain Joyce’s murder. No matter his suspicions, he had no evidence against her. He had never had any evidence against her, and she knew it must be driving him mad.

Suddenly, he released her and took a step back.

“Good night, Ms. Strong.”

She looked at him, her expression still stern. She felt a wave of confidence wash over her. She was right. Her plan was working. She wordlessly exited the room and hurried down the hallway to join Cicero.

* * *

Simcoe stopped talking to her after that. She saw him periodically throughout the day, but his pleasantries had ceased. In a way, she was grateful. But she was also worried. Did this mean he viewed her as an enemy again?

When Anna came into work the next day, she scolded her under her breath. “Edmund told me what happened.” She whispered.

They were both behind the bar, refilling pitchers.

Molly did not turn her head, “And?”

“I don’t like this.” Anna suddenly paused and pulled a folded piece of paper out of her skirts. “Here, this is for you.”

Molly snatched the paper and quickly stuffed it in her bodice.

“How did you manage to get to the drop?” Her voice was just as hushed as Anna’s. They were speaking so that only they could hear each other.

“I snuck away this morning. It was stuffed with papers this morning. Caleb must have visited last night.”

Molly nodded and quickly stepped out from behind the bar. She began to wipe down a couple of tables nearby.

It was early, but the tavern was by no means empty. She was uncertain if there was a correlation, but she had definitely noticed an influx in the amount of Queen’s Rangers frequenting the tavern. When they had been here before, they would stop by in the afternoon or evening, after their patrols. But that morning, nearly a third of Simcoe’s men were spread out across the tavern and it was not yet noon.

“I’ve told DeJong that I’ll cover your shift for Christmas.”

Molly paused. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. They had decided their schedules weeks earlier, before the Rangers came to town. Molly had decided then that she had no desire to celebrate the holiday with friends. This Christmas was going to be very different than the previous years. So, she was content to stay at the tavern, and work. Even though things had changed, Molly still felt no desire to visit Whitehall for the celebrations.

Molly shook her head, “Don’t do that.”

“Why not?”

She shrugged. She knew Anna wouldn’t understand. Molly just didn’t feel in the mood to celebrate Christmas. She knew she couldn’t be the only one who felt that way.

_***_

Molly got a chance to read her letters later that day. She was surprised to see that Caleb had written to her. He rarely did. He had never been big on writing.

_Moll,_

_Sorry these took so long to get delivered. Was delayed. Boy, do I have stories to tell you! We’ll have to wait until we see each other next._ _Hoping it won’t happen, but I wish you’d come to camp with us. Tall-boy is getting impulsive without you around. And I can only do so much. Also, I do miss your company. If you were here, we could pretend it was like old times, and we could spook the men and horses under Tall-boy’s command (haha)_

_I admit, a lot of these letters are getting old. Tall-boy asked me not to send all of them, but I figured why not? I doubt he’s mentioned this, but did he tell you that he writes you a lot of letters he doesn’t send. This was one of those letters. I know he’d kill me if he knew I salvaged this one._ _I know he’s embarrassed, but I don’t know. I know he tires of writing to you. Says it would be easier if he could see you in person. But I don’t know. He doesn’t like talking about you with me. He seems to forget the fact that we were all raised together._

_But anyway, I know I’m rambling. Oh, and why don’t I ever see you at the dead drop? You should try to visit me sometime. ~_ _Caleb Brewster_

Tall-boy. As in _Tall_ madge. Caleb always did love nicknames.

She opened the letter from Ben. She stared at the parchment for a long time, not reading what was on the page. The letter was chaotic. It wasn’t an actual letter; it was fragments. She noticed his handwriting had become more erratic towards the end of the paper. As for the parchment itself, it had clearly been crumpled up, and half ripped before it was folded neatly and delivered to her.

_Molly,_

_A redcoat came to camp today and surrendered. He claims he wishes to defect. He brought news from his camp. He says there is will be an assassination attempt on Washington. He claims he abandoned his regiment, but that the man carrying out the killing will be coming to camp later today._ _Will write more soon._

...

_I really don’t know why I’m writing this to you. I already know this letter will never reach you. It is more for my sake than for you. I need to organize my thoughts._

_It appears the redcoat was telling the truth. A man came to camp a few hours after him. This new man, he says he is one of us, but I have my doubts._

_I have spoken to Washington on the matter. He demands that we wait. I fear he is too preoccupied with his plans to persuade France to aide us in the war._

_This new man, I interrogated him. He says that the redcoat is the one who will assassinate Washington. I don’t know what to make of it. Both men claim that the other is the assassin. Clearly, one of them is lying, but the question is: Who?_

...

_Spoke with Washington. He is convinced the assassin must be the man claiming to be a Patriot. I am not convinced though. We need more information._

There were some scribbled under these words and the next set of letters. It was almost as if he had started to write something but became frustrated and just began scratching at the paper with his quill.

_Mr. Sackett is dead._

Her breath hitched in her throat. She had never met him, and Ben had only mentioned his once or twice in his letters. But she had thought highly of him. He was the one who wrote their codebook. She suddenly wondered if he knew about the personal letters she and Ben wrote back and forth. 

_Washington was wrong. The Patriot turned out to be just that. We struggled to find a record for him because he deserted the army months ago. Turns out, the redcoat was the assassin all along. And it also turns out that assassinating Washington had been the furthest thing from his mind. We were his target._

_Washington chose to trust the redcoat. So, Sackett went to interview him. By time we figured out the truth, we found Sackett dead in his tent. Throat slit. The redcoat got away, but not before stealing documents relating to the ring._ _~~Molly, he took some of your letters. They’ll never be able to decode them. Luckily all our copies of the codebook are intact.~~ _ _Sackett is dead. I hadn’t realized how fond I had grown of him until I found him. Yes, I’m the one who found him. He was still alive when I got there. God, I can still feel his blood on my hands._

He had scribbled out the next part, but she could still make out what it said.

_~~I hate him! Washington has demoted me. I am no longer the Head of Intelligence. I do not know what this means for you or Anna or Abe. If I am allowed to hear any word on the change in arrangements, I will personally come to tell you what will become of this.~~ _

_..._

_~~I don’t know how much more of this I can take.~~ _

_..._

_~~I’ve been thinking of Samuel often. I am grateful he was not alone when he passed. It seems fitting that it was Selah who saw him off. I have found myself thinking of your brother often. I saw what he looked like when he was released from the Jersey. And I can’t help but picture Samuel looking the same way.~~ _

_~~You don’t know this, but Selah had gained back a lot of weight by time we came to Setauket…~~ _

Molly tore herself away from the letter. She couldn’t read anymore. Tears were streaming down her face. She inhaled a shaky breath and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. She wasn’t supposed to see this. It hadn’t been for her, that’s why it was crumbled and ripped.

She threw the paper to the floor and stood up, rubbing the tears out of her eyes. She sniffled and took a few more breaths. She was beginning to feel the way she did when she was in a bad place. But this time it was worse because now she knew that she was not the only one who felt this way.

* * *

“Oi, do you need some help there?”

It was the next day. Molly was fetching water from the water pump beside the tavern. She had purposely filled the bucket to the brim, not wanting to make two trips. And now she was regretting it. She struggled to find a good grip.

She looked up at the sound of the voice, to see who was approaching her. It was one of Simcoe’s Rangers. Although they had frequented the tavern often enough, she didn’t make it a priority to become acquainted with any of them.

She eyed his warily, trying harder to lift the bucket and get out of there. She trusted Simcoe’s men even less than she trusted Simcoe.

“I can manage.” She replied.

The Ranger was beside her now. He watched her struggle for a few seconds.

“Do you need some help?” he repeated.

He had a thick Scottish accent. Although they had not spoken before that moment, she remembered his face. She did not fraternize with the Rangers, but she also couldn’t ignore their appearances. This man, she happened to think, was very attractive. But, of course, she remembered what happened the last time she thought a soldier was attractive. _Poor Ensign Baker_.

She continued struggling with the bucket, but then she stopped. She scowled at the Ranger as she finally stepped back and stood up straight. He looked amused. He stooped down and easily lifted the bucket into his arms.

“Where do you want it, ma’am?”

She silently motioned for him to follow her, and he did. She led him inside the tavern and back to the room behind the bar. He placed it on the floor where she pointed to.

“Thank you.” She said stiffly.

“Of course, ma’am.”

With that, he left her in the room by herself. And that was not the last she would see of him.

* * *

It was later that day.

“Ms. Strong, more ale!”

Molly was struggling not to visibly roll her eyes. Anna was in the cellar, doing inventory, so that left Molly and Cicero working upstairs. The tavern was full of Simcoe’s Rangers. Luckily, Simcoe was out for the day. But that only meant that Molly had to endure torment from his men. She was almost certain his men were under orders.

“Ms. Strong, pitcher!”

“Molly, pitcher!” one of the men chuckled.

More of them began to laugh at the informality. And then another Ranger decided to string those two words together so that it sounded like a name.

“Molly Pitcher!”

All the Rangers burst into laughter. She turned her head slowly, to watch them.

It was a pun. If a man did not know a woman’s name, he often referred to her as ‘Molly’. She didn’t know why that was. But she could not deny that it was a thing. The men were essentially saying ‘Girl, pitcher!’ Regardless, it was just a name. She found no harm in that, so she endured it. For the rest of the day, they called out that name whenever they needed a refill.

* * *

It was Christmas Eve. As soon as she opened the tavern, Molly went out front to empty the spittoons.

“Good morning, Ms. Pitcher.”

She slowed her pace and bit the inside of her cheek to keep her annoyance at bay. She slowly turned her head, a frown on her face. She recognized the voice. It was the Ranger with the Scottish accent. He had a lopsided grin on his face. He quite liked her new nickname.

“Good day, sir.”

She turned and abruptly poured the contents of the spittoon into the dirt. Much to her aggravation, the Ranger approached her like he had yesterday.

“Hey, what’s the matter?” he asked, his tone playful. “Molly Pitcher, cute isn’t it?

To be honest, Molly didn’t mind the nickname. She would have found it much more endearing if it was not given to her by the Rangers.

“I suppose it’s alright.” She admitted.

“You suppose, do you?”

She glanced up at him, refusing to say anything else. He looked at her for a second and then slowly nodded. Then he left her once again.

She saw him again later that day.

Since she was not coming over on Christmas Day, Mary had convinced Molly to visit for a few hours on Christmas Eve. Although it was cold, and although there was snow on the ground, Molly had decided that she wanted to walk. She was looking forward to spending some time alone, with no one to bother her. Or at least, she _had_ been looking forward to it.

As soon as she collected her cloak and began to walk out of town, the Scottish Ranger fell into step beside her. She stopped in her tracks.

“Hello again, Ms. Pitcher.” He greeted.

She eyed him for a moment. This was all too weird. Before yesterday, they had never spoken. Also, it wasn’t like all of Simcoe’s Rangers were beginning to become acquainted with her.

“Is Captain Simcoe having you follow me?” she blurted.

He stopped walking as well. “Aye.” He hadn’t even tried to deny it.

Molly inhaled deeply, trying to keep her tone under control.

“And may I inquire as to why?” she said through gritted teeth.

“I volunteered.”

 _Unbelievable_. She rolled her eyes and shoved past him, continuing on her way. She was walking with more determination than before. _Maybe if she could walk faster than him, then he would get discouraged and give up?_ She knew that wouldn’t happen, but the thought still crossed her mind anyway.

She found him walking beside her once more.

“Why?” she finally asked.

“Why what? Why I volunteered? I think the answer is obvious enough.”

His tone was flirtatious, and Molly felt conflicted about the whole ordeal.

She glanced at him, “Why am being followed.”

A grin spread across his face, “Better if you didn’t.”

They were outside of town now, walking down the main road that would take them to Whitehall.

“Well, let’s pretend I don’t know any better.”

He chuckled, “We all saw that kiss you gave him. The Captain’s just worried about you.”

She rolled her eyes again.

“Liar.” She hissed.

“Well, it’s better than telling you that the Captain doesn’t trust you”

She looked at him again, “And is that the truth?”

He shrugged. After a few moments, he removed his helmet and ran a hand through his shirt curls. Molly tried not to look at him. She felt guilty for finding him attractive.

“Why aren’t we taking a carriage?” he asked.

“I like to walk.”

“It’s bloody freezing out here.”

“Then you can go back to town.”

He smiled, “You know I can’t do that.”

They walked in silence for several minutes. It was just them on the path. Molly had no interest in walking in awkward silence for the next half hour. So, she broke the silence.

“If you’re going to be following me, shouldn’t we at least be acquainted?” she asked.

“I _am_ acquainted with you.”

As much as Molly didn’t want to admit it, she was grateful for the Ranger’s playful tone. Every soldier she had ever talked to had always been so serious. Even ones who were more comfortable with her, like Ensign Baker. But, then again, the Rangers weren’t soldiers. Not really. They were mercenaries. She knew that should concern her, but in the moment, she frankly didn’t care.

“I mean for my sake.” Her own tone was becoming less harsh. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Lieutenant Alexander MacInnis.”

“Molly Strong.”

He held out his hand. Despite everything, she allowed herself to smile, and they shook hands. The lack of formality was comforting, in a way.

“Of course, I already know who you are Ms. Pitcher.”

“Call me Molly.”

“Call me Alex.”

* * *

Molly knew it was in poor taste, but she could not help comparing Lieutenant MacInnis to Ensign Baker. For one thing, MacInnis was a far better conversationalist. She learned more about him than she had any soldier she had met before. The truth was, he liked to talk.

She learned that he was only a few years her elder. He was from Scotland – obviously. He had moved to the colonies shortly before the war broke out. Since he had no family, he decided to volunteer for the Queen’s Rangers.

Her stomach churned when he spoke about being a Ranger. He had been one for many years, and all Molly could think about one of Ben’s letters.

_I lost my entire patrol to Robert Rogers. My men were butchered in that ambush._

Ben had been the only survivor of that ambush, and MacInnis had surely been involved. The thought sent shivers up her spine. And now there she was smiling and speaking informally with the man who perhaps nearly killed Ben.

“Alright, question.” Molly said once Whitehall was in their sight, “What do you intend to do once we reach Whitehall?”

“I suppose I’ll have to wait outside till you’re finished.”

Molly rolled her eyes but said nothing. He had already complained about walking in the cold. She could not imagine he would last long waiting outside of Whitehall. But it also gave her an idea. Perhaps when she went back to town later, he will have given up and won’t accompany her on the way back.

* * *

When she finally arrived at Whitehall, Mary greeted her warmly. Mary was ecstatic. Major Hewlett had written to York City only two days earlier, and they had already heard word that Abe was going to be released from prison. Molly was pleased with the news. She felt as if a weight had been lifted from her. Now, the only weight she had to work about involved Simcoe and MacInnis.

Mary beckoned her into the parlor so they could talk while drinking tea. But before Molly had the chance to step further into the house, both women turned their head and watched Major Hewlett quickly descending the stairs.

“Yes, Molly, a quick word.” He said. Once at the bottom of the stairs, he addressed Mary, “Terribly sorry, madam. It will only be a moment.”

“Of course.”

Despite her confusion, Mary stepped into the parlor alone. Hewlett guided Molly into the Judge’s office and closed the door behind them. They were alone.

“Hello, Edmund.”

It still felt weird for her to refer to him by his Christian name.

“Any updates?” he asked with a brief smile.

She shook her head, “Aye, but you won’t like it.”

He raised his eyebrows in concern.

“You’re still alright, I hope?”

“Aye, it’s not that. It’s… I am afraid there is a bit of a hiccup in my plan.” Although they were alone, Molly still kept her voice lowered. “Simcoe is having me followed by one of his men.”

Edmund scoffed, “I don’t see why that would alter anything.”

“But it does. I asked the Ranger who’s assigned to watch me, and he admitted that Simcoe questions my loyalty to him. If I were to come here now, I fear he will misinterpret it as my being guilty of some crime.”

Edmund shook his head. He was in disbelief.

“Why are you doing this?”

She blinked. “I’m unsure what you mean.”

“When I asked Anna to Whitehall, she did not even consider what my offer might do to her relationship with Captain Simcoe. When I asked you, I expected the same reaction. But why are you so intent on remaining in Simcoe’s good graces? Molly, I know you despise the man. Perhaps almost as much as me.”

Molly chewed on her bottom lip. It was a good question. She knew the answer, but she could never confide in him. _I’m doing this to protect Anna and Abe and Ben and Caleb._

In her mind, she imagined herself admitting this to Edmund, and she also imagined what he would ask next. ‘Why was she so intent on protecting them?’ She could never expect him to understand what her answer would be.

The simple answer would be because they were her friends. But it was more than that. Selah and Anna were the only family she had left. It did not matter if she and Anna would never quite see eye-to-eye. She was Selah’s wife, so Molly’s love for Selah had to be extended to his wife as well.

Caleb was her closest friend for most of her life. When Ben and Samuel and Abe left for university, Caleb remained in Setauket. He didn’t go on with his education, so he and Molly were able to maintain their long-lasting friendship.

Then there was Abraham. She and Abe had not been close since childhood. It was for a variety of reasons. The most obvious one was Judge Woodhull’s distaste towards her. She did not blame Abe for distancing himself from her as they grew older. His father had always been a loyalist, and he was constantly trying to appease his relationship with his father. But, to Molly, the memories were still there, and she still cared for him. 

As for Ben, for the first twenty years of Ben’s life, Molly had always been someone’s else’s friend. She was Samuel’s friend. She was Caleb’s friend. She was Selah’s sister. As children, they never interacted unless someone they knew mutually was with them. With was always Caleb and Molly… and Ben. Or Samuel and Molly… and Ben. Or Selah and Molly… with Ben. It was like that for all their early relationships. For example, when Ben taught her how to ride a horse, Samuel was with them.

They were forced to become friends when Ben returned from university, when he was twenty and she was twenty-two. Molly and Selah’s parents had been dead for a year. Selah had taken his inheritance and invested it into building a tavern in town. Samuel had moved to the city by then, and Caleb was always away working as a sailor.

As for Molly, she spent most of her time alone. All her friends were either away or working, and Selah refused to let her help with the construction of the tavern. As for friends, she had none. She had not been a very nice child. She would admit to that. She picked fights with anyone and everyone. Although she had not been like that for many years, it was hard for people to forget.

Ben and Molly were forced to become friends because all the people they knew mutually were gone. After a year of this new friendship, they discovered that they got along far better than they expected. By the time Ben was twenty-one and Molly was twenty-three, they were engaged. And by the time Ben was twenty-two and Molly was twenty-four, their engagement was called off, and Ben left to join the Continental Army.

Although Molly was now twenty-seven, she had decided that her loyalty towards her friends was something that would always remain constant.

But how was she supposed to explain something like that to Major Edmund Hewlett?

“Edmund,” she finally said, “I am grateful for your willingness to protect me. But will you allow me to do this? This may be the only way I can return the favor and protect you as well.”

He eyed her for a moment, then he nodded.

He faintly scoffed under his breath, “I can see why Simcoe is intrigued by your friendship.”

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t know why it is, but you speak more like a soldier than a tavern maid.”

* * *

Molly left at nightfall. The remainder of her visit had been pleasant. She spoke with Mary and Edmund and Anna and Judge Woodhull – who seemed more cross than usual. All of them were equally anxious for Abe’s return to Setauket. He was expected right after the New Year.

When Molly exited the house, she was surprised to find Lieutenant MacInnis waiting for her. He was speaking with the redcoats on sentry duty in front of Whitehall. He quickly excused himself when he caught sight of her.

“Will we be walking then?” he asked.

His cheeks and nose were pink from the cold. Molly hugged her cloak tighter around herself. He hadn’t been incorrect earlier. It was cold.

She shrugged, “I suppose I wouldn’t mind riding into town.”

He grinned and quickly went about procuring a carriage. One of the redcoats drove while Molly and MacInnis sat beside each other in the back. They had sat in silence for the first minutes of the ride.

“How was your visit?” he asked.

“It was tolerable enough.”

She couldn’t help but eye his musket wearily. He had it their entire walk to Whitehall, but she hadn’t really noticed it until now. He was holding it, propped up against his knees. The musket reminded her of what he was. Although she enjoyed his company, she could not let her guard down. He was following her after all, and whatever she said, he would report to Simcoe.

He said no more after her abrupt response. She could tell he was tired from waiting in the cold for the last several hours. She wasn’t sorry though.

The wagon dropped them off at the edge of town.

“Happy Christmas.” The redcoat said, turning the carriage back in the direction of Whitehall.

“Merry Christmas!” Molly called after him. She was still struggling to believe that it had been less than a year since she became involved in the spy ring. Some days, it felt as if years were passing rather than days.

The two of them turned and began walking in the direction of the tavern. Molly was feeling the cold now, and her teeth were chattering slightly.

“I suppose you won’t be given leave for the holiday?” She kept her tone light.

“Nah. You’re stuck with me until Captain Simcoe gives me further orders.”

They had arrived at the tavern.

“Well then, I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Aye, that you will Ms. Pitcher.” He grinned as he watched her roll her eyes. “Good night, Ms. Molly.”

“Good night.”

They parted ways.

* * *

“Happy Christmas!”

Molly was greeted by MacInnis the next morning. He was already sitting at one of the tables when she and Cicero walked into the main room.

“We’re closed.” Was her response.

He shrugged, “Fine then, you can be the one to tell that to the Captain.”

She rolled her eyes as she stepped behind the bar and tied her apron around her skirts. _It’s going to be a long day_ , she thought.

And it was a long day. The tavern was busy the moment it opened. Major Hewlett had given many of his men the day off, so they made the most of their time drinking ale and celebrating the holiday. Molly was suddenly disappointed she had discouraged Anna from coming in to work that day.

The noise was astronomical. The men drunkenly sang Christmas carols and drinking chants throughout the day. MacInnis drank little. He spent the day conversing with whoever sat within hearing distance and watching Molly as she worked. He attempted to engage her in conversation whenever she passed too closely by his table. She ignored him most of the time. It was too busy for her to take a break.

By the early evening, most of the redcoats had cleared out, and Captain Simcoe returned to the tavern with the remainder of his men. Molly had seen Simcoe periodically over the last few days, but they had not spoken since he cornered her in his quarters. Molly soon found herself working alone as Akinbode and Cicero began talking.

“Merry Christmas, John.” She said nonchalantly as she placed a mug in front of Simcoe. He and two other Rangers were sitting beside MacInnis. Although she knew he no longer trusted her, she was determined not to appear guilty of anything.

He looked at her for a moment.

“Won’t you sit with us, Molly?”

She wanted to swear. There was no way she could excuse herself. The only customers in the tavern were Simcoe’s Rangers. She accepted her losses quickly and retrieved a clean mug from the bar and a pitcher of ale. She sat down beside MacInnis and poured herself a drink. She sat there quietly, unsure of what the purpose of this was.

“I’ve been making enquiries about you.” Simcoe said, taking a drink.

Molly also took a drink, “What sort of enquiries?”

“Mrs. Scudders tells me you were rebellious in your adolescence.”

Molly choked on her drink and quickly tried to recover. _Mrs. Scudders_ , Molly began thinking of every horrible name to call the woman.

Simcoe continued, “She told me an interesting story. Said there was a time when you were infamous for engaging in drinking contests. Apparently, you were skilled in holding your ale.”

Molly inhaled deeply. To be honest, she was surprised that Mrs. Scudders even remembered that story.

Molly was aware of her former behaviors. She had been a troubled child and teenager. She admitted to it, and she was grateful she had outgrown her impulsiveness. She remembered the drinking contests well. When she was a teenager, Caleb bet that he could outdrink her. Molly, who was once ridiculously competitive, refused to be bested. So, she challenged him to a drinking contest.

It was supposed to be a one-time thing. But, after she proved herself to have the stronger stomach, other boys in the neighborhood began to challenge her. When her parents found out about her behavior, her mother beat her as punishment. Molly remembered the bruises. She hadn’t drunk ale like that in a long time.

“That was a long time ago.” She stammered, suddenly self-conscious.

Simcoe looked amused, “What’s a bit of friendly competition between friends?”

Her eyebrows knitted together. She wasn’t sure if she was hearing him right.

“ _You_ want to challenge _me_?” she asked.

“Of course not.” A beat. “It was merely an interesting fact. Don’t you agree, MacInnis?”

Molly shifted her eyes to him. He had a faint smirk on his face as he shrugged.

“Aye, when did your _rebellious_ streak end?” MacInnis inquired.

She took a large gulp of her drink. She knew what this was about. They simply wanted to tease her.

“I was a child then.” She shrugged, “I suppose I’ve grown up.”

They sat in silence for a few moments. Then Simcoe made a gesture and MacInnis and the other Ranger rose from their seats and walk away. Molly looked at the Captain uncertainly.

“You know I’m having you followed?”

Molly nodded, “Aye.”

“Do you know why?”

“Aye.”

Simcoe smirked slightly. He took another drink.

“Good. I’m glad we have an understanding.”

A beat.

“I wasn’t lying to you.” Molly lied. “I do value your friendship, and I wish you would understand that.”

He took another drink in response. They sat there in silence long enough for both of them to finish their drinks. The Rangers chatted noisily at the tables around them. Before rising from his seat, Simcoe said something that sent shivers up her spine.

“I am glad to hear that. It will do you good to be my ally in the coming weeks.”

She didn’t like the sound of that…

* * *

**Author's Note:**

This is what MacInnis looks like. When I was rewatching the show, I noticed he's in various episodes throughout the series. He's even in the pilot, and he's one of the Rangers who shoots at Ben when he escapes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is one continuity error I'd like to address: So, Hewlett confiscates the townspeoples' weapons in 1x09. And at the end of Season 2, he makes a comment that he still has all the weapons confiscated. So, Molly technically shouldn't have Selah's musket at the tavern, but... It really doesn't matter, but I still wanted to mention it.


	19. 2x09

**January 1778**

It had been a week since New Year’s. Abe was due back any day from York City. The weather was warmer than usual, and the snow had already begun to thaw. It looked like it was going to be an early Spring. It was morning, and Molly was taking a walk by the coast. MacInnis followed behind her lazily. He had been ordered to stop following her. This morning, he was accompanying her because he _wanted_ to.

Although she still felt guilt for acquainting herself with him, the truth was, Molly had grown rather fond of MacInnis. If things were different, she imagined that they would have formed an attachment quickly. He reminded her of Caleb in a lot of ways, but MacInnis was more flirtatious where Caleb was simply playful.

Molly was still having doubts about her relationship with Ben. She had not heard from him in so long, and Anna’s harsh words had stayed with her. Perhaps she was being foolish? The more time she spent with MacInnis, the more she thought about that. If things were different, she wouldn’t mind becoming involved with a man like him. But, of course, that was _if things were different._

After MacInnis revealed that he was no longer being ordered to follow her, Molly had relaxed considerably. She didn’t even bat an eye when he would visit her at the tavern in the evenings. He would stay until closing. When the night became slow, she would sit with him and they would play cards. Their conversations were far more detailed than she would have liked, but at the same time, she didn’t mind.

After Simcoe had teased her about her adolescence, it seemed that MacInnis had been making enquiries about her as well.

“You were really engaged to a rebel officer?” he asked one evening.

Molly rolled her eyes, “He wasn’t an officer then. That was before the war.”

Sometimes, their conversations took strange turns. She began to question if he was attempting to court her.

“Why aren’t you married? Surely you aren’t soft for your past engagement?” he teased.

She told him the truth, “There’s a war going on you know. I’m not anxious to be a widow.”

He was not the first person to ask her that question, and he would not be the last.

Despite everything, Molly was still trying, in vain, to discover any information about the King’s Army in Philadelphia or in York City.

“I don’t see why you’ve got your sights set on Philadelphia.”

She shrugged, “I’ve always wanted to live in a city.”

He bit his lip as a lopsided grin formed on his face, “Maybe I’ll take you one day.”

Molly hadn’t blushed that hard in a long time.

Her friendship with Simcoe and MacInnis and her new associations with all the Rangers put her in a strange position. Whenever she visited Whitehall, she would report to Edmund and Anna about things she had overheard. In a turn of events, instead of reporting to Ben, she found herself becoming a sort of spy for Major Hewlett.

Hewlett was anxious to hear any news of Simcoe’s movements. The two men were no longer hiding their distaste for each other. As for Anna, she disapproved of Molly’s closeness with the Rangers.

“We’re going to get caught. What if Simcoe or one of his men goes through your things when you’re out.” Anna warned.

Molly agreed, but she was too stubborn to break off her connections and move to Whitehall. She still believed there was valuable information to be gained from associating with the Rangers. She agreed with Anna so much that later that day she went back to the tavern and she threw her codebook into the fireplace. She stood there and watched the pages crinkle and blacken and finally turn to ash. The truth was, she hadn’t referred to the codebook in months. She had it all memorized.

The newfound separation between the sister-in-laws was leading to all sorts of new disagreements between each other. Their current quarrel was because Anna didn’t approve of Molly’s fondness for MacInnis.

“He’s dangerous, Molly.”

“Aye, and as is Edmund. He fancies you. Do not pretend that you are oblivious to that fact.”

Anna knew it to be true. Both Anna and Molly were leading on men for information, and both of them had begun to form attachments to the men. They knew how dangerous that could be, yet they didn’t make any attempts to discourage the men.

That morning, during their walk, Molly and MacInnis turned at the sound of someone running. It was Cicero. He was coming from the direction of the church, and he was out of breath.

“Ms. Molly, there’s been an accident.”

* * *

A crowd was beginning to form. The townspeople stood in one group, and Rangers in another, and Hewlett and his men in another. Molly and Anna and Cicero all stood beside each other. Although it had been nearly a year since the trial against Reverend Tallmadge and the other Patriot sympathizers, Hewlett had decided to leave the gallows standing on the hill of the church. It was supposed to be practical. But now there was a redcoat hanging from those same gallows. It was Ensign Norwich. Molly knew him from the tavern.

Although the groups were separate, they were close enough to hear one another speak. A soldier stepped beside Hewlett and handed him a piece of paper.

“Sir, it looks like a suicide note.”

Hewlett raised his voice, “Did anyone see Ensign Norwich last night?”

Captain Wakefield replied, “I saw him in the tavern at suppertime, sir. He had sentry duty last night in front of the garrison.”

“No one saw him saddle a horse, throw a rope over the gallows and attach himself to it not thirty feet from where you lay snoring in your tents?” Hewlett snapped. He was furious, and Molly could understand why. One of his soldiers had surely been murdered.

The soldier shrugged, “It was a dark night, sir.”

“A dark night breeds dark thoughts.” Simcoe cut in.

Those words sent shiver up Molly’s spine.

He continued, “As I recall, the poor man always did suffer from a melancholic temperament.”

The Rangers began chuckling in agreement. Molly watched MacInnis from where he was with his fellow Rangers.

“You do not seem much surprised or for that matter disturbed, Captain.” Hewlett observed.

Simcoe shrugged, “Oh, but I am. Disturbed. I just hope his despair isn't contagious. There's so few of you as it is. My condolences, Major.”

He had a gesture and his men began to follow him away from the gallows. The crowd of townspeople began to disperse, but Molly and Anna remained where they stood. They watched as a few of Hewlett’s men began to cut down Ensign Norwich from the gallows. After a few minutes, Hewlett found an excuse to walk over to them.

“Was is Simcoe?” Anna whispered.

They were all thinking it. They had been expecting something, but nothing like this. Molly told them what Simcoe had said to her at Christmas.

_It will do you good to be my ally in the coming weeks._

“It surely must be.” Hewlett sighed.

“What do we do?” Molly asked.

“Let _me_ worry about that. But, perhaps, this could be that excuse you’ve been searching for, to move to Whitehall.”

They watched as the redcoats carried Ensign Norwich’s body up to the church.

* * *

Later that day, Molly was in the tavern cellar doing inventory. She had her back turned towards the door, and she was whispering as she counted, trying to keep track of where she was.

“Twenty-eight.” She sighed, mentally making a note. She turned around to begin on the next set of crates, but instead she found herself jumping and gasping in surprise. Captain Simcoe was standing behind her.

“John!” she put a hand to her chest, “Sorry. You scared me.”

He seemed to always be sneaking up on her. She was certain he did it on purpose. Since their conversation during Christmas, it appeared that Simcoe’s faith in Molly had been restored. He had decided to continue their friendship.

“I’m sorry you had to see that today, at the church.” He said. He was still standing very close to her.

“W-Was that you?” she asked.

He didn’t answer her question. Instead he took her hand and brief held it.

“It’s probably best if you remain near my men during this time. Until all of this passes-”

She pulled her hand out of his grip, and any appearance of complacency faded from his face.

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

* * *

Molly had not heard from Ben since before Christmas. She didn’t consider the letter salvaged from Caleb to be from him. She was not sorry though. It would be too much, trying to hide his letters and trying to sneak letters to Anna to get to the dead drop, with the increased presence from the Rangers and from her acquaintance with Hewlett.

She felt cutoff from everything just like before. All of her news came from the loyalists and the redcoats. For example, right after the New Year, the King’s Army abandoned Philadelphia. They decided it made more sense, strategically, to rally their forces and protect New York. New York was the heart of everything: population, trade, influence.

With the city abandoned of redcoats, the rebels quickly flooded back into the city. Molly was unsure if Ben or Caleb had been involved in the reoccupation. She didn’t know where they were, what they were doing, or anything.

A few days after the redcoat was discovered hanged, Anna came into the tavern when she was not working. Molly was in the middle of pouring Akinbode a drink.

“Anna?” Molly asked. She worried that something might be wrong.

“Ms. Anna!” Cicero greeted.

Anna smiled at them.

“Cicero. How are you? Are you all right?”

He nodded.

“I, uh... I have news. Your mother's employer, Major André, wants you to join them in New York.”

Major Andre was an English military officers. Abigail had been serving as his maid since Strong Manor was seized a year ago. Molly, Cicero, and Akinbode all perked up at that news. Before any of them could response, Anna turned to Akinbode

“It's so good to see you, Jordan-”

“Akinbode.” He snapped. “I ain't your slave no more, so don't call me by my slave name.”

Akinbode didn’t hold a grudge against Molly. Unlike Molly, Anna had owned the slaves, and she had treated them as such.

Cicero waved off his friend, “She didn't mean anything by it, Jordan. I mean, A... Akin...”

Everyone struggled with the pronunciation.

“Akinbode.” He chuckled, “It's all right, boy. It's all right.”

“Akinbode.” Anna repeated, “I'm sorry if I offended you… I realize I have no right to presume a friendship between us, but I need to ask a favor from you. Cicero has the chance to be with his mother, but Major Hewlett can't spare any soldiers to take him to New York. So I thought...”

Akinbode slammed down his mug, making ale splash over the sides, “You see this?” He motioned towards his uniform. “You see this, hmm? Captain Simcoe can't spare me neither. Counts on me to keep the men in line.”

Anna fiddled with her skirts out of nervousness, “Could you at least ask him? There's no one else I'd trust with Cicero's safety. And I'm sure his mother would be very grateful as well.”

Cicero laughed, “That's right. And you like her, too, Jordan. I mean, Akin... Akinbo...”

Akinbode shrugged, “He's gonna say no. But I'll try.”

Anna smiled, “That's all I ask. Thank you.”

Cicero walked over to talk to Akinbode, and Anna pulled Molly to the side so they could talk.

“How’s Abigail?” Molly inquired, smiling.

They hadn’t heard from her in months.

“The Major didn’t say, but I suppose she must be fairing well for him to invite Cicero to live with them.” A beat. “Molly, Mary heard word. Abraham’s to arrive tomorrow.”

Molly laughed aloud and hugged her sister-in-law, “That’s great!”

She would make sure to be at Whitehall tomorrow. He three of them, Abe, Anna, and Molly, needed to regroup. Molly was certain Abe would be bringing some kind of information for the dead drop. He had been in York City for nearly two months.

Molly still had her own concerns about Abe’s return – mainly about whether he would be willing to continue his espionage. However, she pushed those thoughts aside for now. Abe was back; things were going to go back to the way it was, before his arrest. If only Molly knew how wrong she was…

* * *

Molly left Cicero at the tavern to work by himself.

“I promise, I’ll be back before the evening rush.” She promised.

“Don’t feel the need to rush. I can manage by my lonesome.” He smiled, “Tell Mr. Abraham ‘hello’ for me.”

Molly promised she would and then she set out to find MacInnis. He was by the dock, talking with one of the other Rangers. He smiled when he saw her approaching her.

“I suppose you’ll be escorting me to Whitehall?” she asked.

His smile faded, “Afraid not. I have orders from Captain Simcoe.”

“Oh.” She could not hide her disappointment. “Alright.”

She didn’t allow him to say anything more. She quickly turned away, embarrassed by her excitement. She asked one of the redcoats to escort her, and she hopped in a carriage bound for Whitehall.

* * *

Everyone was anxious when she arrived at Whitehall. Fortunately, they did not have to wait long. Within the next two hours, one of the redcoats in sentry duty peeked his head inside the house.

“He’s here, sir!” he called.

All of them, Judge Woodhull, Mary, Thomas, Edmund, Anna, and Molly piled out of the house. Molly wanted to laugh aloud with excitement when she caught sight of Abe. It was him! And he appeared unharmed.

He was riding on a horse towards Whitehall. Beside him rode Captain Simcoe, and behind them rode one of Simcoe’s Rangers, Lieutenant Tanner, and behind him rode Hewlett’s man, Captain Eastin, and two other redcoats, and beside the redcoats was MacInnis, walking. Molly could tell there was tension between the combined redcoats and Rangers.

"Here he is. The prodigal returns safely to the bosom of his family.” Simcoe announced.

Molly was too relieved to allow Simcoe’s presence to spoil the moment.

Mary and Thomas rushed off the porch to meet Abe as he dismounted his horse. He embraced both of them, and they were soon crying. Molly suddenly felt out of place. Perhaps she should’ve waited to reunite with him.

She was still on the porch, beside Edmund and Anna. She noticed Anna step forward, meaning to go and greet him. But Edmund reached out and grabbed her hand, causing her to remain where she stood. He was holding her back. Molly looked at their intertwined hands for a moment. Then she looked at Edmund. That simple gesture made her feel a heaviness in her chest. In that moment, she felt an overpowering fondness for the Major. He was not only a fine ally, but he was a good man.

* * *

Molly ended up staying until nightfall. She got her chance to greet Abe and welcome him home. She made pleasant conversation with everyone present, except of course for Judge Woodhull, who only settled for awkward conversation when it came to Molly and Anna. He still didn’t like the Strong women.

Molly had no idea when she would get a chance to speak to Abe about the spy ring. She didn’t get a chance that evening, and she could only hope that Anna would pass on the information regarding her current situation with the Rangers. She decided not to take the carriage into town. She could use some peace and quiet after the reunion. So, she walked, watching her breath turn to steam in the winter air as she headed into town.

* * *

The next day, when Anna came in for her shift, Molly managed to corner her in the room storage room behind the bar.

“How is he?” Molly asked.

Since seeing Abe again, she was beginning to think the worst.

She feared perhaps Abe would consider ending his involvement in the ring. But if he did that, that would mean the end of Molly and Anna’s involvement. Rumors heard at the tavern only served as supplementary information. They were all aware that Abe’s trips to York City were what Washington was truly interested in.

“He’s well.” Anna did not continue.

“ _Well_? What does that mean?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t gotten a chance to speak with him in private. He did manage to send me a message. We’re to meet at his root cellar tonight… If he decides to go to the dead drop, do you have any messages to send?”

Molly shook her head. There really wasn’t anything to report.

No matter how much she tried to inquire about the Rangers time in Philadelphia, nothing seemed mentionable to discuss. All she had done for the last month was learn more personal facts about men like Simcoe and MacInnis than she initially wanted to.

She suddenly had a thought, “Has Akinbode given you his answer?” About escorting Cicero to York City.

“No, not yet. He told Cicero he would ask Simcoe in the next couple of days.”

Molly would be sad to see Cicero go. She always enjoyed the boy’s company. But there was Abigail to think about. She had already risked her life to send Anna those messages. It seemed fitting for this to be the last they would hear from her. At least she and her son would be reunited.

* * *

That night, Molly accompanied MacInnis for part of his sentry duty. He was to make rounds around the town, looking for any suspicious activity. Their meeting was brief though. They had hardly begun conversing when a Ranger rode up to them on a horse. It was Lieutenant Tanner. Molly knew him from the tavern.

“MacInnis, come quick!” he demanded.

“What’s happening?”

Tanner smirked, “It seems Captain Simcoe was right.”

 _What did that mean?_ She thought. MacInnis quickly excused himself and hurried after his comrade. Molly continued standing there, watching them depart. Something wasn’t quite right. In all the weeks since Hewlett’s return, MacInnis had never been ushered away by any of his comrades. She was also trying to think of what Simcoe could’ve been _right_ about.

She only stood there for a few seconds. She thought and thought. All she could remember was seeing Simcoe, MacInnis, and Tanner as part of the party that guided Abe to Whitehall. It wasn’t anything…

 _No_. Molly’s face had fallen slack. _It couldn’t be_. But a part of her suspected that her hunch might be right. She quickly looked around to confirm that she was alone, and not being followed by anyone. It appeared that she was safe. And then she did something that she knew was foolish: she decided to follow MacInnis and Tanner.

They were already far ahead of her. Tanner had abandoned his horse and he and MacInnis were continuing on foot on the path that led out of town. Half suspicious, half curious, Molly decided to follow them for a bit. After several minutes of this, she realized that they were traveling in the direction of Whitehall.

She quickly became aware that they were the only three on the path at that time of night. As soon as she was close enough to the woods along the edge of the trail, she stepped off the path and into the underbrush. It was less convenient, but at least she didn’t have to worry about being spotted.

She followed them for close to a half hour. She was beginning to doubt herself again. _It’s probably nothing_. She told herself, _I’m probably…_ She winced as one of the tree branches got tangled in her hair. She swore and quickly yanked herself free. She blew the loose hairs that had fallen in her eyes and crept to the edge of the underbrush.

She knew she had made a mistake. If they were truly bound for Whitehall, it would be a pain for Molly to follow them. There was a considerable break in the trees along the path. It meant she would have to walk all along the perimeter of the remains of Abe’s farm. There was no way she would be able to keep up with them – who were literally walking straight through the open field. She was beginning to reassess her entire decision when MacInnis and Tanner abruptly changed direction.

She watched them warily. They were approaching the charred remains of Abe’s farmhouse _. What are they doing?_ They stopped next to the entrance to the root cellar. Both men stooped down and it looked as if they were pressing their heads against the doors to the root cellar. It was like they were listening to something.

 _Oh no. No._ Molly prayed she was wrong. After a few minutes, a gasp escaped her mouth. The Rangers rose to their feet and opened the doors to the cellar, they then descended the steps. _Maybe Anna and Abe aren’t down there yet. Anna didn’t say_ when _they would meet._

But these thoughts all proved to be futile. Just as quickly as the men went into the root cellar, they came out again, this time dragging Anna and Abraham with them.

* * *

She didn’t have a weapon. She didn’t have a horse. She didn’t any way of contacting anyone for help. She was on her own. But if she didn’t try to do something, it was all over. Everything would have been for nothing.

She watched MacInnis and Tanner holding their pistols to Abe and Anna’s backs. They were having Abe and Anna lead them somewhere. Molly was practically tripping over herself trying to keep up with them. She quietly swore under her breath. Although she knew the woods, her dress kept getting tangled in some kind of underbrush every few minutes.

Eventually, she realized where they were going. They were walking in the direction of the dead drop, where Caleb landed his boat along the short. With that in mind, Molly altered her path and walked around their intended destination. She stumbled over rocks and fallen branches until she finally found a spot where she could observe what was happening. She swallowed and tried to steady her breathing, but, at the same time, she was panicking.

_Please don’t be here, please don’t be here._

Molly whispered a curse. She could see Caleb’s boat down by the water. She scanned the trees and quickly caught sight of Caleb. He was hiding behind one of the trees. Like her, he was also watching Abe and Anna as they were forced to lead Tanner and…

Molly did a doubletake. It was just Tanner following behind them now. _Where is…?_

The sound of a struggle ripped her attention back to where Caleb had been standing. MacInnis loomed over her friend. They knew about Caleb beforehand, because MacInnis had snuck around the bay to ambush him. He had hit him with the butt of his pistol, and Caleb now lay on the ground unconscious. MacInnis retrieved rope from his satchel and stooped over Caleb. He hog-tied him.

Molly cursed once more. _This was just great_. They were surely going to go for reinforcements, and then that would be the end of everything, of all of them. She could tell that MacInnis and Tanner were saying something, but she couldn’t hear them. She was too far removed in her hiding spot. She began to creep closer. She winced as the low-hanging branches continued to tug at her.

As she moved, she remained aware of the action taking place. Abe tried to step forward to say something, but MacInnis stepped forward and beat him over the head. Molly winced as she watched Abe crumple to the ground. MacInnis kept his pistol leveled at Abe’s head.

She didn’t dare get any closer. She was only about a hundred feet away now. And she could hear the remnants of their conversation.

“No,” Anna cried out, “don't hurt him!”

Tanner grabbed her and spun her around so that that they were standing face-to-face.

He was eyeing her up and down, with a rotten grin on his face, “Now... give us a kiss.”

Molly’s face scrunched up in confusion. Surely, he was not implying what she thought he _might_ be.

Anna made no move to do anything, so Tanner grabbed her roughly by the neck and forced her to kiss him. She could see Anna struggling against him. Then he released her. Molly noticed that MacInnis was grinning. He found the entire thing amusing.

“Take him out.” Tanner said next, gesturing towards his crotch.

Anna gave looked hesitantly at Abe, almost confirming that he was still alright.

Molly had seen enough. She was unarmed, the bottom of her dress was torn, and her hair was half loose falling around her face. She rose to her feet and pushed herself towards where they were.

“Stop!” Her voice had not been filled with that much rage since she was a child.

MacInnis and Tanner kept their pistols trained on Abe and Anna, but all of them looked at her in utter shock. Molly stood there awkwardly, not sure what to do now. There really wasn’t anything she could do. She knew that when she decided to follow them out here.

“Molly, what are you doing here?” MacInnis spoke up.

“And I would like to ask you the same question.”

His expression darkened, “You shouldn’t be here.”

Abe suddenly blurted out, “Don’t hurt her. She has nothing to do with this.”

MacInnis hit Abe over the head again and Abe collapsed to the ground once more.

“Shut up!” he demanded.

As soon as those words left his lips, Tanner began screaming in pain. They whipped their heads over to where Anna and Tanner stood. Anna had managed to hide a knife in the folds of her skirts. While Tanner and MacInnis were busy addressing Molly, she had produced the knife and stabbed Tanner in the crotch.Abe wasted no time when he saw the opportunity, and he spun around and dove for MacInnis’ legs.

While Anna had the upper hand in her fight with Tanner, so Molly rushed forward to free Caleb from his bonds. He was just starting to come back into consciousness when she tugged on the ropes on his wrists.

She yelped out as she felt two hands roughly grab her by the waist. She was thrown onto her back as MacInnis pinned her to the ground.

“What are you doing?” he spat. He still didn’t know about Molly’s involvement. All he knew was that Molly and Anna were family.

She yelled out profanities and spit in his face, trying to loosen his grip on her. She tried to reach out to land a punch or a kick, but she was restrained by her clothing. Her corset was all of a sudden too tight, and the more she struggled, the more she was becoming tangled in her skirts.

Abe recovered from where he had been bludgeoned by MacInnis and came to Molly’s rescue. He wrapped an arm around MacInnis’ neck and dragged him off her. In the struggle, MacInnis’ satchel was ripped from across his back and the contents spilled over the forest floor. As Molly pushed herself into a sitting position, she cried out in pain. She cut her hand on something. She looked down and recognized a detached bayonet, from MacInnis’ bag.

She could hear the men grunting in pain and frustration as they continued to throw punches at one another. They were still on their feet, but that didn’t last long. MacInnis was considerably taller than Abe, and he headbutted him, causing Abe to fall to his knees.

She didn’t even think twice about it. She scooped up the bayonet and pushed herself to her feet. As soon as MacInnis turned to look back towards he had left Molly, she surged forward and plunged the bayonet into his abdomen. His face contorted in pain and they locked eyes for a moment. Then he collapsed into a heap on the ground. She fell with him, her hand still gripping the handle of the bayonet.

The entire fight had only lasted a couple of minutes. The bayonet had impaled him in the stomach. He was still very much alive, and with a wound like that, it would take him hours to finally die. He was coughing, gurgling on his own blood as it dribbled out of the corner of his mouth.

“Molly.” He gasped. He was going into shock. “Molly.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She stammered, horrified as she began to process what she had just done. She began to press a hand to his side, to stop the bleeding.

“Molly.” He kept repeating her name, and she could feel the tears welling up in her eyes.

She felt arms wrap around her shoulders, and she let herself be guided to her feet. It was Abe.

“Are you alright?” he asked, taking Molly’s face in his hands.

They were both breathing heavily. She nodded, but then turned her attention back to MacInnis. 

She watched as Abe retrieved MacInnis’ pistol from where it had fallen during their fight. He pulled back the hammer and began to take aim.

“Wait!” Molly snapped, pushing Abe’s arm away.

Before either of them could say more, a gunshot pierced through the night. They both jumped and turned to look at its origin. Anna was standing above Tanner’s body. She had Tanner’s pistol in her hand, still aimed at Tanner’s head, and smoke was beginning to dissipate from around her form. It was too dark to see clearly, but Molly knew Tanner was dead. The Strong women locked eyes for a moment. But Anna did not address what she had just done.

Instead, she shifted her gaze to look at something behind Molly and Abe. It was Caleb. Molly had loosened his restraints enough for him to free himself now. He was on his feet now, trying to compose himself.

“Caleb,” Anna said. Her voice sounded distant. She, too, was experiencing shock from what had just transpired. “What happened to your beard?”

“It was ticking the ladies, Annie.” Caleb deadpanned. Even in times of danger, he was still lighthearted.

Molly turned to look at her friend. In her panic and in the shadows of the woods. She didn’t even notice that Caleb was cleanshaven. She stepped closer to him and put a hand on his chin, almost to prove it to be true. When she moved her hand away, she quietly gasped. Her hand had streaked blood along his face. It was MacInnis’ blood.

“Right, you three, in the boat now.” Caleb ordered.

“No.” Abe protested. He seemed quite level-headed considering what just happened. “You're taking two passengers, but not us.” He gestured to MacInnis’ body and Tanner’s corpse. “You'll row them out, you drop them in the Sound.”

“Abe,” Anna cut him. “you can't just... Simcoe sent them specifically to track you. If they go missing, you'll be the first suspect.”

Abe shook his head, “ _Unless_ it looks like someone got to them first. Now it's obvious that the Rangers and the redcoats are at each other's throats.”

“You'll just set up a whole war right here in Setauket. There'll be more blood.” Anna argued.

“Well, at least it's not ours.”

Caleb watched them as they spoke.

“What are you talking about?” he finally asked.

Abe scooped MacInnis’ satchel from where it had fallen on the ground. He dug around for a second and then produced MacInnis’ flask.

“All right, this'll do.” Abe said, holding it high.

Caleb shrugged, “All right. I can help you plant that.”

“No,” Abe also fished a piece of parchment out of the satchel. “I need you to take this to Ben and Washington now. It's from Townsend. It may mean the war.”

Townsend was the man Abe had recruited to spy for them in York City. No one had met him or corresponded with him besides Abe.

“What? Really?” Caleb took the paper and began to look over it.

“Read it on the way. Let's get this cargo in the boat.”

Abe raised the pistol once more, aiming it at MacInnis, who was still incapacitated on the ground.

“No.” Molly snapped, snatching the pistol away from him.

“Come on. Don’t be cruel.” Abe snapped.

They glared at each other for a moment. Then Molly looked down at MacInnis again. He was moving considerably less than before, and he was lightly coughing, choking on his own blood. Molly knew he was bleeding out. He was dying.

“I’ll do it.” Molly decided. She thought her voice sounded hollow. And she suddenly felt numb, like she wasn’t in control of her body.

She could feel all three of her friends watching her as she stood over MacInnis’ body and leveled the pistol with his head.

“Molly,” He continued to repeat. His voice was faint. His eyes were closed, and he was just mumbling her name at that point.

Molly had never killed a person before. She had killed animals. When she was a child, her father taught her and Selah to shoot. He took used to take them hunting. Molly had never been a good shot.

In that moment, as the pistol shook in her grip, she thought of Ben.

Ben had always loved horses. The Tallmadges used to own a horse. They had raised him since he was a colt, but he was more Ben’s horse than anyone’s. Ben had loved that horse. In fact, Ben had taught her how to ride on that horse.

The horse’s name was Resolved. But the horse was not simply for riding. He was a working animal. Reverend Tallmadge would use him to plow his small plot of land. Resolved was their only horse, so he was taken into town and used to draw wagons or carriages.

One day, when Samuel and Molly were sixteen and Ben was fourteen, Samuel came to see Molly. He told her that Resolved had gotten hurt while plowing. He mis-stepped and broke a leg. 

They all knew what was to be Resolved’s fate. Once a horse breaks a leg, there was nothing they could do. The leg would never quite heal right, and the horse would be unable to ride or work. And the horse would most likely be in pain for the rest of his life.

Samuel had volunteered to put the horse down, but Ben insisted that he be the one to kill him. Samuel had doubt in his younger brother, so he asked Molly to come around to help console the boy.

The three of them were gathered in the Tallmadge’s barn. The other animals had been moved out, so it was just them and Resolved. Samuel and Molly stood back to watch.

Resolved lay on the ground, unable to stand on his broken leg. Ben stood over his horse. He had had his father’s pistol leveled at the horse’s head for the past half hour. But he refused to pull the trigger. The boy and the horse continued to stare at each other.

Although he was stood there silently, Molly could see the boy’s body wracking with silent sobs.

“You alright there, Benji?” Samuel finally asked.

Ben remained motionless.

“You don’t have to do this, you know.” Samuel continued. “I’ll do it.”

Ben shook his head, “No,” he gulped, “No, I said I would do it. And I will.”

“I don’t get it, _why_ do you want to do this?”

Ben hesitated before responding, “Because if you do it, Sam, I’m afraid I’ll never forgive you.” The pistol was shaking in his hands. His body was still wracking with his silent sobs.

Molly couldn’t take it anymore. If he didn’t stop soon, she was going to start crying. She stepped forward and gently turned Ben to look at her.

“Hey, it’s okay if you can’t do this.” She said.

“I don’t want to be a coward.”

She ran a hand through his hair.

“You are not a coward.”

“I don’t want to hate Sam for killing him.”

Molly gently took the pistol from him. He willingly let it slip from his grip.

“Then hate me.”

She abruptly turned and pulled the trigger. The bullet went through Resolved’s skull, and the horse slumped forward, blood beginning to pool around his head. His eyes were still open. Molly found herself making eye contact in the split second she pulled the trigger. She remembered the way his eyes had darkened as she killed him.

And now, as she looked down at MacInnis, she realized his eyes looked the same. The pistol was leveled with _his_ head now, the only difference was that she was the one hesitating this time.

“I’m so sorry, Alex.” She whispered.

She pulled the trigger.

As the plume of smoke cleared, she could see the damage she had caused. The bullet had gone through his cheek, tearing a hole in the side of his face. He had had such a handsome face. But not now. He laid there unmoving. Blood still trickled from the side of his mouth, but it trickled much slower now. His eyes were still open, they were still glossy with the remnants of life still clinging to him. She knew in a few minutes, that gloss would disappear, and the color would drain from his face, and he would just be another corpse in this war. Lieutenant Alexander MacInnis was dead.

* * *

Everything was numb. That feeling hadn’t gone away. She didn’t notice how long she had been standing there until she heard Caleb’s voice.

“Moll?”

She gasped slightly, but she didn’t take her eyes off his body. She felt the pistol slip from her fingers and fall to ground with a quiet _thud_.

“Are you alright?”

His words sounded far away, and she couldn’t bring herself to tear her eyes away.

“Moll!”

Caleb grabbed her face and forced her to look at him. She fought him for a second and tried to shove him away, but he grabbed her by bicep and held her in place.

“Stop looking. You’ll only make yourself sick.”

He was talking from experience, and that’s when the thought hit her: Ben and Caleb were soldiers, _they_ had killed people. She tried to imagine her friend killing someone. Then, she tried to imagine Ben killing someone. Ben, who couldn’t bare to kill a horse all those years ago. The thought made her stomach churn.

“Come here.” Caleb ushered her away from the corpses and to the water, where his boat was. That’s when Molly realized that they were all waiting for her. They had already moved Tanner’s body into the whaleboat. Abe and Anna were stood nearby, waiting for Molly to move so they could pick up MacInnis’ corpse.

Caleb made her kneel down and he began washing her hands in the water. That’s when she realized that she still had MacInnis’ blood on her hands.

“Caleb?” Her voice suddenly sounded very small to her. “I killed that man.” Her voice broke and tears began to stream down her face. Sobs wracked her body as she let him finish cleaning her hands.

He let her dry her hands on the front of his shirt. Then he took her face in his hands, and he tried to wipe the tears off her cheeks. “Aye, you did. But you also saved me and Abe and Annie.”

“I liked him.” She said quietly.

Caleb said nothing. She gulped loudly. She could feel the bile rising in her throat. She pushed him away and turned, emptying the contents of her stomach on the ground. She dry heaved a couple of times and coughed as she tried to compose herself once more. Caleb rubbed her back and stayed beside her as she was sick. As soon as she was finished, he pulled her into a hug.

“There’s still room in the boat for one more.” He said.

She gently pulled away from him.

She didn’t deny his offer, but she didn’t accept it either. Just like when she decided to follow the Rangers, she wasn’t sure what she intended to do. Now, she only felt that; she felt uncertain about everything, and she didn’t want to make a decision until the numbness that swept over her disappeared. But she was also uncertain when that would happen. She was only certain of one thing: She was never going to be quite the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y'all appreciate the fact that I'm over here Google searching "1700s veterinarian practices" to make this fanfic have a little zest 😂


	20. 2x10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Season 2 finale! :)

Molly awoke the next morning to someone shaking her awake. She didn’t even bother to show surprise or worry at who it might be. As soon as she was conscious again, the feeling of dread and illness possessed her. And, although she had just woken up, she suddenly felt exhausted, and in need of a nap. She didn’t want to be there. She didn’t want to be awake.

“Molly. Wake up.”

She opened her eyes groggily and found herself looking up at her sister-in-law.

“What?” she mumbled,

The tavern didn’t open for a couple more hours.

“Aren’t you going to see Cicero off?”

Molly closed her eyes again and exhaled heavily. She had completely forgotten. Last night, after all the chaos ended, Anna and Abe had walked her to the edge of town before returning to Whitehall. Anna had told her the news on the way. Akinbode received permission to escort Cicero to York City. They were to leave in the morning… _that_ morning.

Despite how miserable she felt, Molly managed to push herself out of bed. She didn’t both getting dressed or pulled a blanket over herself to be modest. Anna didn’t question her decision. She knew that Molly was still reeling from what happened last night. She followed Anna out of the small room and out to the front of the tavern.

Simcoe, Akinbode, and Cicero were waiting for them. Anna had already said her goodbyes, so it was Molly’s turn. Molly smiled tiredly and pulled Cicero into a hug. She squeezed him tight.

“It won’t be the same here without you.” She said.

“I’ll miss you too.”

They pulled away, but Molly stood there with her hands on Cicero’s shoulders for a minute. She just looked at him.

“What?” he chuckled.

She smiled, in spite of everything, “I’m making sure I don’t forget your face. I am going to miss you. Truly… Good luck. Tell your mother we send our love.”

Akinbode rolled his eyes at the comment, but Molly ignored him.

“I will.” Cicero promised.

He hugged Molly and Anna a final time and then Akinbode helped him onto his horse before mounting his own. Cicero waved at them as he rode, following behind Akinbode. They waved back. After a few moments, Anna turned and reentered the tavern. But Molly stood there, beside Simcoe. They watched Cicero and Akinbode until they were out of sight.

That’s when Molly realized that Simcoe was looking at her. She briefly glanced at him. She couldn’t blame him; she knew she must be quite a sight. She was barefoot, in only her nightgown. Her hair was unpinned and loose, and she knew her hair was tangled and sticking up on one side of her head from where she had slept on it. Then there was her smell. After she’d returned to the tavern last night, she had trouble falling asleep. So, she got drunk. That morning, she could smell the stale alcohol on herself.

“What?” she asked.

She didn’t even bother trying to be formal. For the first time, she didn’t care what Simcoe thought of her. That feeling of numbness that had swept her last night, it was still with her.

“Are you alright, Ms. Strong?”

She exhaled sharply through her nose. It was meant to indicate some sort of amusement, but she doubted it translated. “No.”

A beat.

“Do you want a drink?” Molly asked.

She wasn’t sure why she asked him that. It came to her mind, and she just started speaking.

“No.” He replied hesitantly, “No, thank you.”

Molly shrugged, “I think I’ll have one.”

Without another word, she turned and walked back inside the tavern. Simcoe did not follow her. And she did just what she said. She walked behind the bar and began pouring herself a drink.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”

Molly narrowed her eyes. Anna was stood beside the staircase, watching her sister-in-law.

“Don’t you think you should mind your own business?” Molly muttered, taking a swig from her cup.

She wasn’t sure why she said that either. Whenever Anna, or anyone for that matter, said something that annoyed her, Molly just ignored them. But she didn’t want to ignore Anna this morning.

Anna ignored the remark and walked over to the bar. The bar separated the women. She pulled something out of the pocket hidden in her skirts. It was MacInnis’ flask. Molly eyed the flask for a second, then she took another long drink

“We need to talk about how we’re going to plant this.” Anna whispered.

Molly scoffed. “Don’t look at me.” Anna raised her eyebrows in surprise. “I’m not having anything to do with that.”

She finished her drink and began pouring herself another one. Anna reached out and grabbed Molly’s wrist, stopping her from fully filling her mug. Molly glared at her.

“What?” Molly snapped.

“You’ve had enough.”

They looked at each other for a second, then Molly lashed out and grabbed Anna by the collar of her dress, pulling her forward, so that she was half laying on the bar top. Anna yelped in surprise and watched the scowl form on Molly’s face.

“I used to beat you up when we were children. Don’t think I won’t do it again.” Molly growled. She shoved her away and returned to pouring herself another drink.

* * *

Anna placed a hand to the collar of her dress, trying to steady her breathing. Molly had not made her feel that way in a long time. Although Molly had been older than most of the other neighborhood children, she had no problem picking fights with any of them.

Anna remembered how Molly used to torment her. When Molly was ten and Anna was eight, Molly liked to tease Anna about her dresses and dolls – back then, Molly used to dress like a boy. Anna had never been sure why Molly had singled her out. All the other girls had those same things, but Molly still treated Anna the worst. Molly had only bullied Anna for a short period of time, but Anna never forgot. The two would not truly speak to each other until they were adults, and Selah began courting Anna.

Anna dropped the subject. But Molly’s behavior troubled her deeply.

* * *

By midday, the tavern was open and bustling with people. Molly worked silently and mechanically, wandering around and filling and refilling mugs. The redcoats and Rangers were drinking on opposite sides of the tavern. Despite the differences between their leaders, the men were currently engaged in a competition regarding drinking songs. They were arguing over which song was better. The redcoats sang the verses of their preference while the Rangers sand the verses of their preference. They were talking turns chanting the lyrics throughout the tavern.

Molly had to admit, she was very invested in the competition. It was one of the more memorable happenings at the tavern. She took a break to lean against the wall on the Rangers’ side of the tavern and listen to the men playfully shout at each other.

Several of the Rangers had risen to their feet to walk over and taunt the redcoats. Their laughter quickly disappeared though when one of the Rangers said, “Hey, where'd you get that flask? That's Maclnnis'.”

The redcoat in question looked down at his table and picked up the flask. He seemed surprised by its presence.

He shrugged, “Oh. What's it doing here and where's my bloody flask?”

The Ranger spat, “To hell with yours! Where's Maclnnis and Tanner? They ain't showed today and they didn't show yesterday.”

Molly noticed more of the Rangers rising to their feet, walking over to confirm if it was MacInnis’ flask.

Molly looked around for Anna, but she couldn’t see her over the sea of men. This was Anna’s doing. She had switched out the redcoat’s flask for MacInnis’ to prevent his disappearance from connecting them – Molly, Anna, and Abe – to the crime.

The redcoat rolled his eyes, “Well, when they do show their sorry selves, tell them to return my property, the thieving toyles!”

The Ranger attacked the redcoat. Soon the entire tavern erupted into a brawl. Molly pushed herself into the furthest corner, trying to avoid becoming a victim. After a few seconds, several of the Rangers managed to get ahold of a redcoat and they threw him out the tavern window. The fight began to migrate outside as the men struggled against one another.

Just as quickly as the fight started, the fighting ended. When the redcoat went flying out the window, the redcoats on sentry duty outside drew their muskets. Upon seeing this, the Rangers drew their muskets. Both groups of men stood there in a stalemate.

Despite what had happened, Molly couldn’t help peeking her head outside the destroyed window frame. She wasn’t sure why, but she didn’t feel afraid. She watched as further chaos ensued.

“Stand fast!”

It was Simcoe who said it. He ran over to his men and roughly grabbed the one Ranger by the collar of his uniform.

“They have Maclnnis's flask!” the man tried to explain.

Molly could see the anger in Simcoe’s eyes. “I should never have allowed Akinbode to leave for New York. You idiots cannot keep yourselves in line.” He hissed.

Molly noticed that Anna now stood beside her. She looked at her briefly before turning her attention back to what was happening outside.

Word must have traveled fast because a few moments later, Major Hewlett came running into town with more of his troops.

“Captain Simcoe!” Hewlett bellowed. “Order your men to stand down their arms.”

“After you, sir.” Simcoe challenged. His voice was calm once again.

The two leaders glared at each other. Just like their men, they seemed to be at a stalemate. Finally, Simcoe stepped forward.

“Allowing two British forces to bloody each other wouldn't be good for either of us, now would it?” he warned.

“Blood has already been spilled.” Hewlett replied. “If you know what's good for you, you'll leave this town.”

“You're in luck. Major Andre has called us to New Jersey on an assignment of actual importance. But per his orders, I shall return here when that's done.”

Simcoe didn’t allow Hewlett to respond. He turned on his heels and stalked away.

* * *

Anna and Molly looked at the damaged. The soldiers had quickly dispersed from the tavern. They didn’t bother finishing their drinks. What enjoyment they had had was over. The two women weren’t quite sure what to do with the window. Although they didn’t discuss what had happened with the flasks, Molly could tell that Anna didn’t expect something like this to happen.

“Should we try to board it up?” Anna asked.

Molly shrugged, “Should one of us go tell DeJong? Or do you suppose he already knows?”

They continued offering solutions instead of actually doing anything for several more minutes.

“Ms. Strong!”

Molly looked up. Simcoe was walking towards them.

“A word?” he asked.

Molly shrugged and stepped over the damaged window and walked over to where Simcoe was stood.

“Aye?” she asked.

“You wouldn’t happen to know the whereabouts of Lieutenants MacInnis and Tanner?” he asked.

He wasn’t accusing her of anything. It was simply a question.

“I saw them last night.” Molly admitted. “I was talking to MacInnis, but then Tanner came over and pulled him away for some assignment.”

Simcoe swore under his breath.

“What is it?” Molly inquired.

She felt weird. She had always been so careful with how she spoke to Simcoe before. But now, she didn’t care. She was no longer afraid of him, but she didn’t know why.

“Do you trust Major Hewlett?” he blurted.

She didn’t even hesitate, “Aye.”

“Why?”

“I suppose because he doesn’t do things like corner me alone in rooms and send his soldiers to follow me.”

Simcoe pondered her words for a second. He wasn’t angered by anything she said. If Molly didn’t know better, she’d say it was almost like he appreciated her honesty.

“Are you alright?” he asked again.

“No.”

A beat.

“Are you really going to York City?” she asked.

He nodded, “Yes.”

She thought about that for a moment.

“When do you leave?”

“A few days.”

Then she said, “I’m moving into Whitehall. Mary’s offered me a room.”

She wasn’t sure why she said that either. It wasn’t the entire truth, but still. She had spent the last several weeks stressing over how she would reveal that information. But he ended up taking it much easier than she initially thought.

Simcoe shrugged, “Probably for the best.” He gestured toward the ruined tavern window.

They stood there for a moment in silence. Molly didn’t have anything else to say, so she didn’t say anymore. Simcoe sensed this, and the two of them wordlessly parted ways. Neither knew that that would be the last they saw of each other for some time.

* * *

Anna ended up going to tell DeJong about what happened at the tavern. He traveled back with her to assess the damage himself. He was initially angry. But when he heard that the damage was because of the Rangers, he quickly changed his mind. No one in town quite trusted Simcoe since what happened a year ago. However, his presence still intimidated most of the townspeople.

The three of them were inside the tavern. DeJong was thinking out loud, and he had asked Anna to transcribe what he was saying. He was trying to formulate a plan for whether or not he was going to have the tavern closed ruing the reconstruction. DeJong’s only interest was earning a profit.

Molly was sat at a nearby table. She really didn’t have anything to do, so she began to zone out. She became lost in her thoughts. She really couldn’t comprehend what she was thinking. It was like her mind was all muddled. She could honestly still go for a nap; she was still tired.

“Mr. DeJong, I’d like to resign.”

It took a few seconds for her to process what she had just said. She said it on impulse, but she wasn’t sorry for saying it.

DeJong and Anna both became silent as they looked over at her.

“Sorry?” he asked.

Molly repeated what she had just said. “I’d like to resign… I don’t want to work here anymore.”

* * *

After much discussion with both DeJong and Anna, both finally accepted her wishes. DeJong said he would give her the last of her pay and he would supply her with references within the next few days.

It was nearly evening, and Molly and Anna were walking to Whitehall. They hadn’t spoken to each other since leaving the tavern. Anna wanted to take a carriage, but Molly refused. She was content to carry her single bag of belongings.

“Are you alright?”

Molly rolled her eyes, “No.”

They walked for a few more moments.

“Why did you resign?”

Molly was surprised Anna was just asking her this now.

“It’s like I explained to Mr. DeJong, I don’t feel like being a tavern wench anymore.”

“We’re not wenches!” Anna exclaimed.

Molly disagreed, but she said nothing.

A wench simply referred to a young woman, but if a single woman worked in a tavern, there was always the stigma that she could be a prostitute. Although that wasn’t the case with Molly and Anna, Molly did feel dirty in a way. For the last year, she felt as if she’d been prostituting herself by befriending and appeasing men such as Captain Simcoe to get information.

“I don’t know why you’re so shook up what happened last night.”

“Annie, you killed a man as well.”

“Yes, a man who intended to rape me!”

Molly remembered the way Tanner had roughly grabbed Anna and forced her to kiss him.

“You still killed him though. Do you feel no regret at all?” Molly inquired.

“I don’t.” Anna admitted. “He’s our enemy, Moll, they all are.”

Molly thought about that for a moment. There was some truth to that, but she didn’t agree that it was as simple as that either.

“And what? You feel sorry for killing MacInnis? Molly, the man tried to kill _us_?”

“I know you were never acquainted, but Alex was always kind to me. He was my friend.” Her voice broke, “I liked him.”

Anna shook her head in disbelief.

“What?” Molly snapped, “And do you not feel the same way for Edmund?”

Anna didn’t say anything.

She continued, “If that had been him last night, you would not have hesitated to kill him?”

Anna looked at her sister-in-law briefly. Then she turned to look at the path in front of them. They didn’t say another word until they reached Whitehall.

* * *

The redcoats on sentry duty didn’t even look at the Strong women as they entered Whitehall. As soon as they stepped into the threshold, Molly realized they were interrupting something. Hewlett and Abe were sat in the parlor. They abruptly ended their conversation upon seeing them enter.

“Molly.” Abe said in surprise.

He and Hewlett quickly got to their feet. They both noticed the bag Molly carried.

Hewlett smiled, “What happened this morning at the tavern, was that an ample excuse?”

Molly nodded briefly, “Aye.”

A few seconds later, Judge Woodhull emerged from his office. He removed his spectacles from his face and eyed Molly suspiciously.

“Ms. Strong, to what do we owe this pleasure?” he asked.

“Major Hewlett’s offered me a room here.”

The Judge shot Hewlett a look. The truth was, Hewlett did not consult with the Judge about this decision.

“Did he now?” the Judge asked, his voice filled with annoyance.

Hewlett continued smiling, ignoring the Judge. “Yes, well, I knew it wouldn’t be a problem. Anna, perhaps you can show Molly to her room?”

“Of course.”

Molly and the Judge exchanged a tense look before Anna ushered her upstairs.

* * *

Mary was upstairs as well. She was ecstatic to hear the news about Molly. She showed Molly to a spare bedroom – Whitehall was a large estate, and there were still several spare rooms despite how many soldiers were staying there. Anna quickly left the two friends, and Mary helped Molly unpack the couple of items she had in her bag.

“I have been telling Major Hewlett for weeks to invite you to stay here. He never told me he actually invited you though.” Mary said.

Thomas was sat on Molly’s bed, playing with a toy and watching the two women.

“He did. As soon as he escaped the rebels. But I did not accept it. I needed to settle some things.”

“What sort of things? If it has to do with traveling to and from the tavern, the Major’s men will be gladly drive you into town.”

Molly sat down on the bed beside Thomas.

“I no longer work there.” She shrugged.

Mary’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion

“Mr. DeJong fired you?” She stepped closer to the bed, “He can’t do that!”

“I quit.”

“You what?”

Molly sighed. She was tired of being expected to explain herself.

“Will you not respect my decision?” she asked.

“Molly, it’s not that, it’s just-”

"Don’t you think I’m tired of working in the same place and seeing the same men who were involved in Selah’s arrest.”

Mary looked down at her feet.

“You don’t know what it’s like.” Molly added. “You don’t know how they look at me.”

And that was true.

Molly and Selah had few friends left after the war started. Most of their acquaintances in town were Patriots. Since the trial last year, Molly was certain that she and Anna and Abe were among the last Patriots left in town. Between her neighbors’ memories of Molly’s childhood and their memories of her former friendships, Molly had next to no one truly loyal to her.

She knew that her friendship with Mary only existed because Mary was an outsider to Setauket. She had only known Molly for the past two or three years. There was nothing for her to remember about Molly’s past.

“Well then.” Mary said, sitting beside her friend on the bed, “Know that Abraham and I will never look at you that way.”

* * *

Molly spent the next few days settling into Whitehall. It was strange to be sitting a dining table for meals, and to have so much free time. It was also the first time, in a long time, that Molly had a room to herself. She had almost forgotten how much she missed having a bed all to herself.

Anna was still working at the tavern, so she was gone for most of the days. Abe was gone to the remains of his farmhouse; he was already talking about rebuilding. Hewlett and most of his men were at the church all day. Molly looked forward to being in Mary and Thomas’ company for most days. But that was not the case every day.

Molly collected her messy embroidery and went downstairs to sit with Mary and Thomas. But she soon discovered that they were not home. She walked about, checking the other rooms. Finally, she found herself in Judge Woodhull’s office. The Judge was sat at his desk, working on something.

“Have you seen Mary?”

The Judge didn’t look up from his papers.

“She’s stepped out for a minute… Take a seat.”

Molly shrugged and sat in one of the armchairs near the desk.

"I do not approve of you staying here.”

She rolled her eyes. That was no surprise to her.

“I am curious though, are you involved in the business with Abraham and Anna?”

Molly froze. _What?_ She was unsure if she had heard him correctly.

“I-I don’t understand.”

The Judge chuckled and leaned back in his chair. He was looked over at her now.

“I suppose it only makes sense. You’re the one who involved them in all this business, no doubt. When I heard of Selah’s arrest, I wondered if something like this might happen.”

Molly stared at him. He _knew_. He knew about Abe and Anna’s involvement with the rebels. _But how?_ She asked herself.

“How long have you known?” she asked quietly.

She was suddenly feeling Déjà vu. Wasn’t she involved in this same conversation when she revealed her knowledge to her friends in the tavern cellar?

“Long enough.” The Judge sighed.

“And what you think _I_ am involved? Perhaps I’m like you?”

“You are a lot of things, but you are nothing like me.”

Molly looked out the window for a moment. There was a reason he was telling her this _now_.

“Why are you so keen on telling me this? It’s not like you’re going to tell the Major anything.” She noticed him clench his fist. “You shouldn’t bluff, Mr. Woodhull. I’m well aware of what you’re willing to do to protect your son… May I go?”

They glared at each other for a long time. The Judge said nothing else to her, so Molly finally took that as a sign. She rose and departed the office. No matter how much she didn’t like it, she had decided to trust him.

* * *

That evening when Molly returned to her room, she found a note tucked under her pillow.

_Tomorrow morning. Root cellar._

She knew it was from Abe.

* * *

So, the next morning, she made her excuses and said she was going for a walk. When she arrived at the root cellar, Anna and Abe were already there.

“How long has your father known?” Molly immediately asked.

Her friends avoided making eye contact with her for a moment.

“Annie, you knew about this?”

“Yes.” Anna admitted.

“Did my father say something to you?” Abe asked.

Molly shrugged, “Aye. Oh, but we have nothing to fear,” she sounded more sarcastic now, “Your father is only bluffing. It isn’t like he’d had a vendetta against me and Annie or anything. Isn’t that right, Annie?"

“Molly-”

"Shut up, Abraham. It doesn’t matter. I don’t know how long he’s known or suspected, but he hasn’t sold us out yet… Now why have you called us all down here?”

Abe eyed her for a second. They hadn’t talked properly since Molly moved into Whitehall.

“Are you alright?” He asked.

Molly rolled her eyes.

“I wish everyone would stop asking me that.”

Abe rubbed his eyes and waved her off.

"Alright, alright.” He began to explain, “We have problems bigger than my father. Hewlett had asked me to compile a history of my spying in York City. He still believes I made contact with the Sons of Liberty, and he wants to send a report of their activities to Major John Andre, the _head of intelligence_ for the King. But as well all know, I never did any of those things. Everything I have told Hewlett had been lies, and if he sends that report, I’ll be found out. We’ll be found out.”

“So, what do we do?” Molly asked.

"We silence Hewlett.”

They stood there for a moment to digest that information.

"I don't understand.” Anna spoke up.

“Which part?”

“Silence Hewlett. Do you mean... you mean _kill_ Hewlett?”

Abe slowly began pacing.

“I know, it seems impossible, all right, but it's not.” He said.

Anna scoffed.

“Have you lost your damn mind?” Molly was shaking her head in disbelief.

Abe continued, “Anna, all right, he still fancies you. So, you take him out tonight, you take him down by the water, I can get the drop on him.”

“No.”

“No, no, no, it'll work. It's going to work. We just make it look like Simcoe ordered it just like we did those other two Rangers.

“No, Abe.” Anna said firmly. “No, I won't do this. I won't take part in this.”

“All right, why, why?”

“Because it's murder and it's done in cold blood.”

Abe laughed aloud.

“If I recall, you and Molly had no problem with murder last week.”

Molly punched him in the arm before grabbing him roughly.

“You shut your mouth.”

He shoved her away. “What?” he asked. “So, then you... you're not hearing me, all right? Hewlett plans to pass on my name to Andre.” Abe turned to Anna, “You remember him from New York?

Molly knitted her eyebrows in confusion. _What? When did that happen?_

Abe continued, “Listen, when he hears the name Woodhull again, when he hears Setauket, where he already sent Robert Rogers to look into the ambush that we planned…”

“Ambush?” Molly blurted. “What are you talking about?”

Anna groaned loudly.

“I told you we should’ve told her!” Anna said.

“Tell me what?” Molly demanded.

“Do you remember when Simcoe went to Connecticut and he was missing in action?”

“Hmm, faintly.”

That was over a year ago, Molly’s memory was a little hazy.

“That was us.” Anna explained. “Abe had just been recruited by Caleb. That was the first information we passed along.”

Abe chuckled darkly, “Yes, and that’s where all of our troubles started. Simcoe was supposed to die in that ambush.”

“What do you mean?” Molly asked.

“Benjamin led that ambush.” Abe said. “He promised to kill Simcoe, but he waited to question him. It’s his fault Simcoe escaped.”

Molly was taken aback. Everything made so much sense now. _That_ was why Simcoe had inquired about the Tallmadges and Brewsters when he returned to Setauket. _That_ was why he had singled out Molly. It was not chance. Ben made a mistake, and he never told her about it. No one had.

Abe and Anna continued the conversation regarding Hewlett.

“There has to be another way.” Anna insisted. “Edmund is... he's not...”

“Wait, Edmund?”

“Major Hewlett.”

“Yes, Major Hewlett of His Majesty's Royal Army. Have you forgotten who our enemy is? Have you forgotten we're at war?”

“You've changed. Ever since you got out of prison, you're different.”

“Yeah, prison will do that to you. Are you going to help me get this done... or not?

Anna didn’t say anything.

“All right. You'd better run along before he gets suspicious.”

Anna huffed in frustration and stormed out of the root cellar.

“You’re going to get us all killed.” Molly glared at Abe one last time.

Then she turned and followed her sister-in-law outside.

“Anna.”

Anna was pacing, running a hand through her hair.

“Annie, obviously we aren’t going to let him kill Edmund.”

“Then what are we going to do?”

“I don’t know.” Molly admitted.

She honestly couldn’t think of a way to get around this without involving Hewlett himself. But that was out of the question. Anna suddenly stopped pacing and began to walk in the direction of Whitehall.

“Where are we going?” Molly asked, following her.

“I have an idea.”

* * *

Molly sat on her bed tapping her foot anxiously. She was waiting for Anna to return. Anna had a plan, and although Molly wasn’t entirely convinced it would work, it was their only option.

The door handle turned, and Molly jumped to her feet and turned to see Anna and Mary entering the bedroom. Mary eyed her friend for a second.

“Anna said you weren’t feeling well.” Anna kept herself pressed against the door, blocking it in case Mary tried to bolt. Mary noticed this. “What’s this all about?”

“We need your help.” Molly said.

“Help with what?”

“It’s Abraham.” Anna continued. “He intends to kill Major Hewlett.”

Mary immediately turned her attention towards Molly. Molly felt herself blush; she was embarrassed. Mary never knew about her involvement, and now Molly knew she’d been caught lying to her own real friend in Setauket.

“You’ve been helping them?” Mary asked.

Molly looked down at her feet for a moment, then she nodded.

“Aye.”

“You said I could trust you.”

“And you can! I have never done anything to endanger you or Abraham.”

Mary scoffed, “Of course. All you did was involve Abraham with the rebels. No danger there.”

Molly tugged at her hair in frustration. Mary said the same thing Judge Woodhull had.

“Why does everyone assume _I_ am responsible for all this?” she demanded, still trying to keep her voice down. “I did not involve Abe! He went out and he did all this himself, and then he dragged me into it.”

Mary rolled her eyes.

“Mary, don’t look at me like that! You’re no more innocent than the rest of us. I know it was your idea to burn down the farmhouse.” Molly snapped.

Mary looked surprised. She didn’t know Abe had told them all this.

“Please, Mary,” Anna said, “we need your help?”

“What is it you want me to do?” she asked.

They began to plot.

* * *

That evening, Abe reluctantly sat with Hewlett in the parlor and they compiled his false reports for Major Andre. Mary had gone downstairs to get Abe. He had no idea that Molly and Anna were waiting upstairs in his bedroom, waiting to verbally ambush him.

After a few minutes, Mary returned with Abe following at her heels. He glared at Anna and Molly when he noticed their presence.

“Anna came to me and told me what you intend on doing.” Mary said as she closed the door behind them.

“She already knows we’re involved with the ring.” Anna added.

Molly shot her sister-in-law a look. She didn’t know _that_. She was suddenly impressed with her friend. Mary had obviously figured out that Anna was involved some time ago. Molly suddenly felt guilty. It was just like what happened with her when she first learned about the ring.

Mary continued, “We can't let you do this, Abe.”

Abe scoffed, “No?”

“You do not have to kill Hewlett.”

“Oh, I don't? I don't have to?”

Abe and Mary were toe-to-toe.

“No.” Mary replied.

“No. All right, then why don't you tell me what I have to do?” His tone was filled with sarcasm.

“You only have to kill his courier.”

Molly, Anna, and Abe all twisted their faces in confusion.

“What?” Abe and Molly said together.

Molly had no idea what was happening. This hadn’t been the plan they discussed.

“Think about it.” Mary said. “Hewlett will likely send one courier as he can't afford to spare a whole detachment.”

“Eastin, yeah.” Abe replied, saying the likely courier’s name.

Molly and Anna exchanged a series of glances, but they were being ignored by the Woodhulls, who were busy now plotting amongst themselves.

“You get ahead of him on the road,” Mary said, “you ambush him, make it look like Simcoe did it, revenge for the men that he lost.

“What are you talking about?” Molly blurted, “We can’t just go around killing people!”

“Mary, I came to you for help.” Anna tried to cut in. Her voice was strained, and Molly could tell she was close to tears.

“You did the right thing.” Mary addressed her calmly.

Abe was thinking over the plan. “Wait, what about Andre? Hewlett will just send another courier.”

“Please don't do this.” Anna was crying now.

“Why not?” Abe hissed. “Eastin's a rat. He's the one that tried to kill my father under Simcoe's orders. There is no one more deserving than Eastin… What changed for you? What happened to ‘ _Raid the armory, storm the church, shoot Hewlett’_? Did you find some hidden love for the king? Or is it just for Hewlett?”

Anna silently stormed out of the room.

Mary was still lost in thought. Molly wanted to say she was surprised by all this, but she wasn’t. She had not forgotten what Abe had told her a long ago.

_It was Mary’s idea to burn the farmhouse._

“You forge a response.” Mary finally said.

Abe turned back to his wife, “What?”

“The story will be that Eastin was ambushed returning from New York. You forge a letter from Andre thanking him for his efforts, but making it very clear that he's not interested in pursuing the matter any further. Hewlett won't dare to challenge him.”

“No.” he shook his head. “Listen to me. Hewlett will be expecting a message that is encrypted.”

“What do you mean?”

Molly stepped forward and gave her two friends a shove.

“Have you two lost your minds?” she turned to Mary, “You can’t be serious.”

Mary waved her off.

“Mary!” No response. “Mary!”

They were ignoring her now.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked Mary, “Huh? Why did you change sides?”

“I haven't changed sides, Abe. I don't believe in your _cause_ , I believe in _you_. And I'm done trying to change you. Though I do think I can help you be a little less sloppy.”

Molly continued listened in disbelief.

Mary kept talking, “Now, your father keeps a pistol in the house. I know where it is. It's going to be all right, I promise.”

Finally, Molly pushed past her friends. She had her hand on the doorknob.

“You’re going to get us all killed!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why do I have that random Anna POV thrown into the middle of this? Because Molly is an unreliable narrator. Sure, we know the whole story bc we've watched the show and we know how everything's connected. But that's not true for the individual characters. Keep that in mind for upcoming chapters.


	21. 3x01

**February 1778**

Molly slept through breakfast the next morning. She was grateful no one had disturbed her. Ever since what happened in the woods, she was having a terrible time sleeping. It was not every night, but most nights, she dreamt about MacInnis and she relieved what had happened that night.

Although she forgot about him during the day, as soon as she closed her eyes, she could still see his face; not his face when he was alive, but his face after she had shot him. The image still made her stomach churn. And she was haunted by his voice. In her dreams, she could hear it clearly. It was as if he was standing beside her.

For the past week, Molly hated waking up. Her head would be pounding, either from a hangover or from her troubled sleep. In the mornings, as she dressed, she would replay her actions over and over again. Stabbing MacInnis with the bayonet. Stopping Abe from firing. And then taking up the gun herself.

That was what bothered her the most. She still wasn’t sure why she had insisted on killing him. She didn’t have to do that, yet she also felt as if she owed It to MacInnis. To Alex.

When she finally awoke and dressed and went downstairs, she found Mary sitting alone in the parlor. She was working on her embroidery. Molly forgot about her hunger and found a seat on the sofa beside her friend.

“Good morning.” Mary greeted.

Molly said nothing. She just watched her friend as she continued to work. After a few minutes, Mary began to squirm, uncomfortable by the silence. She stopped and turned to look at Molly.

“Nothing you can say will change anything. I’ve already made up my mind.”

“I know.” A beat. “When do you intend to go through with it?”

“Today. The Major already dispatched Eastin to the city. Abraham set out this morning, to wait for him along the road.”

Molly exhaled deeply and leaned her head back, so she could look at the ceiling. She hated this. She hated every part of this.

“Mary?” she asked.

Her friend huffed in frustration, “Enough! It is done!”

But that wasn’t what Molly had in mind.

“No. Mary, can I ask a favor of you?”

Mary eyed her for a moment, “What kind of favor?”

“I want to leave Setauket.”

The embroidery slipped from Mary’s hands and fell to the ground.

Molly was serious though. She had decided on impulse, right then, in that moment. After what had happened over the last week, she had decided that she was done. She wanted no part in spying; at least not in Setauket.

“Mary, will you help me?”

* * *

They had been in Mary’s bedroom for the last hour. Molly was sat at the writing desk, watching Mary pace back and forth in the room.

“But you need to know _where_ you’re going.” Mary insisted.

They had been arguing over this topic for quite some time now.

“That’s the thing though, I don’t know where I want to go! I just want to leave Setauket.”

“Then tell me this at least, are you going to your rebel friends or are you planning on remaining a loyalist?”

Molly opened her mouth to say something but ended up closing it. The truth was, she hadn’t thought that far. All this was on an impulsive decision. She didn’t want to think about things such as that.

“I don’t know.” She admitted.

“Well you need to figure that out.”

Mary stopped pacing and looked at her friend. She had not seen Molly this down since Selah’s arrest.

“Do you want to hear my opinion?”

Molly rolled her eyes, so Mary took that as a ‘yes’.

“You say you want to do this in a way that will not incriminate any of us that remain here. The only way, the safest way to do that, would be to move to the city.”

Molly scoffed, “What? You mean York City?”

“Yes!”

The truth was, Molly did not hate that plan. After all, Abe had recruited a man in the city. She would not be the only citizen posing as a loyalist. She had no idea if or how she would continue to spy for Washington. But, frankly, she didn’t care. Recently, she had stopped thinking about Ben. She was beginning to wonder if it would be best to move on until after the war.

“Alright,” she said, “and if I were to go there, what would my excuse be?”

Mary thought for a moment.

“What if, we pretend that we have a mutual acquaintance in the city?” Mary offered, “What if, we receive a letter asking us to attend… an event?”

“What kind of event?”

"Doesn’t matter. Could be anything. A wedding, funeral, something like that.”

Molly slowly began nodding in agreement.

“Alright. Then what?”

“We make so _you_ are the only one who travels to the city. One of Hewlett’s men escorts you, and then you part ways. You stay in the city for a few days, or weeks, and then you write a letter to us, saying that you have, um, come to love the city, and that you are seeking employment there.”

It made sense. After all, DeJong had supplied Molly with her references for working at the tavern. She could easily find employment at another tavern.

“Then what?” Molly asked.

“Then you do whatever you like. If you want to stay in the city, so be it. If you wish to escape to your rebel contacts, so be it. You won’t be connected to Whitehall any longer.”

It was a good plan. So, Molly agreed. She rose and Mary took a seat at the writing desk, and they began to forge an invitation to York City.

* * *

A week had passed since the ambush. Everyone – Anna, Molly, and Mary – was aware that Abe had gone through with the deed, but they didn’t speak of it. Things continued as they had before. Molly was grateful to spend so much time with Mary. Spending time with Mary also guaranteed that Molly did not find herself alone with Judge Woodhull. Over the past week, the women had planned the entire scheme. They were just waiting for it to be put into action. 

One morning, they were sitting in the parlor. Mary had taken a break from her embroidery to help Molly with hers. Molly had believed herself to be a lost cause, but Mary was patient and Molly’s stitching was becoming a little neater each day. With each passing day, Molly couldn’t believe the change she was seeing in Mary. She supposed that Mary had always been this way, but she kept it to herself.

“Do you hate me?”

Mary scoffed, “Why would I do that?”

“For not being a loyalist.”

“Abraham isn’t a loyalist.” she countered.

“You know what I mean.”

They continued their work in silence.

“If it’s any consolation, know that I will miss your companionship.”

“And I will miss yours as well.” Molly felt tears welling up in her eyes, and she blinked them away.

She hated this. Her whole life, she had lived in Setauket. And not she was running away. She knew no one in the city, and now she was seeking refuge there. Soon, rather than being alone, she would be completely on her own.

* * *

The next day, Mary pulled Molly to the side. She seemed panicked.

“We have a problem.” Mary said.

“What?”

“I spoke with Abraham. And he told me he failed to move Eastin’s body.”

“What? You mean he never buried him?”

This was bad. The plan was for Abe to ambush Eastin and then bury his body for a few days. Then he would unbury him and leave his body, and their false correspondence, on the road for Hewlett’s men to find.

Burying the body would delay the body from decomposing. It Abe failed to bury the body initially, then Mary’s entire plan would be ruined. Hewlett and his men would know that Eastin had been dead far longer.

“I don’t know. He wasn’t clear.” Mary looked over her shoulder, almost to confirm that they were alone. “Listen to me, I need a favor from _you_ now.”

Molly perked up at the news.

“I must stay here with Father and Thomas,” Mary explained, “but can you follow Abraham? Ensure he is not doing what I think he might be.”

* * *

Later that day, Abe left Whitehall to go to the remains of his farmhouse. He was still very adamant that he wanted to rebuild his farm as soon as possible. So, when he left, Molly excused herself and said she was going for a walk. She began to follow him.

She repeated what she had done when she followed MacInnis and Tanner. She went off the path and followed Abe from the woods. She was relieved to see that he was truly going to his farm. She watched him from the edge of the woods. He entered his root cellar.

Molly’s attention soon turned to a second figure. A large man was walking up from the woods on the opposite side of the farm. She couldn’t decide if she recognized him or not. The man was not dressed as a soldier, he seemed to be a civilian.

Just then, Abe reemerged from the cellar. He didn’t see the man though. The man said something to announce his presence, and Abe jumped in surprise. They turned to each other and began talking. Abe handed the man a piece of cloth. A few seconds later, the man punched Abe in the stomach and twisted his arm behind his back. Molly had no idea what was happening, but she feared the worst.

She burst out of the woods and fumbled with the pocket in her skirts. She quickly pulled out the pistol she kept hidden there. She had only started doing so recently. She aimed the gun at the man, his back was to her.

“Let go of him!” she shouted.

The man wheeled around so that she was now pointing her gun at Abe, who still had his arm pinned behind him. She scowled as she got a clear look at the strange man. She recognized him. Although she had never met him before, she remembered him from when he visited Setauket. It was Robert Rogers, the former leader of the Queen’s Rangers. She hadn’t the faintest idea what he was doing here.

“I thought you said you didn’t tell anyone about me.” Rogers growled to Abe. Molly just now noticed that he had a Scottish accent.

“I didn’t! I didn’t know she was following me.”

Rogers readjusted his grip on Abe so that he was stood up straight now.

“Molly, lower the gun and get out of here.” Abe demanded.

“No!” she suddenly didn’t care if she was still aiming at Abe, “Not until you tell me what is going on!”

“Do what he says, lass,” Rogers interrupted, “You’re already in over your head.”

Her eyes narrowed. She remained where she stood, her hands still steadily holding the gun. She looked back and forth between the men. From the way he was talking, Abe seemed to trust this man. Molly didn’t like it, but she lowered her arms. She kept her finger on the trigger though; just in case.

“Tell me what’s going on.” She said, her voice calmer than before.

Abe struggled against Rogers for a moment, but then stopped.

“Why were you following the boy?” Rogers asked.

When Molly said nothing, Abe blurted out, “He knows, alright. He helped me ambush Eastin.”

Rogers laughed, “ _Helped_ you! You went about and nearly mucked up everything. I was the one who saved your skin.”

Molly raised her eyebrows in surprise. Her finger slipped off the trigger.

“Was this another one of Mary’s ideas?” she asked.

“No!” Abe said, “She doesn’t know. And she _can’t_ know.”

“Then how…?”

“Major Andre, I suppose you’ve heard of him?” Rogers asked.

Molly nodded uncertainly. She knew who he was. He was the head of intelligence for the king, and he was stationed in York City.

“I’m going to use your friend here to get close to my old friend John Andre.” Rogers chuckled, “He’s nothing but bait to me.”

Molly was beginning to understand. Something had happened, and Rogers wanted revenge on Andre. So, Rogers plan involved coming to Setauket to…? She couldn’t figure out that part. But she feared that the answer might have something to do with Abraham. With some secret he was keeping from her.

“Abraham, what have you done?” she asked slowly.

“Don’t act so coy, lassie.” Rogers snapped. “I saw the way you butchered my boy MacInnis.”

Her breath caught in her throat.

“Do you know how long that boy served under me?” Rogers continued, “I’ll admit, it wasn’t right the way he went. Watching him be killed by a tavern wench.”

The gun slipped from her fingers. She gasped and quickly scrambled to pick it up again.

He had been there. Rogers had been in the woods that night, and he had seen everything. And that was why Abe was keeping him a secret. They were being blackmailed.

Abe spoke up, “Molly, don’t worry. He’s not going to tell anyone.”

Molly didn’t believe him. Rogers began to lightly chuckle. He was amused by Molly’s state of panic.

“You can't kill your secrets, because they have a nasty habit of coming back from the dead.” He laughed, “You can't kill me either.” He tightened his grip on Abe’s arm and Abe cried out in pain, “Now run along. And if you tell anyone about what you’ve seen or what you’ve heard, I’ll make sure to avenge MacInnis’ death. You hear me?”

She nodded warily and looked at Abe one last time.

“Will you get out of here?” Abe snapped.

So she did. She stashed the pistol back in her skirts and began to back away from the two men. As she got further from them, Rogers released Abe. The men watched her for a second, then they went back to discussing their plans.

When Molly reached the trees again, she turned on her heels and began running. She didn’t know what to do. But her mind was racing, and she could feel panicky tears streaming down her face.

Mary’s plan hadn’t worked; Abe had messed it up somehow, and Rogers had thankfully been there to clean up the mess. But now Rogers was blackmailing Abe, and he could potentially blackmail all of them. Anna was too concerned with her friendship and feelings for Hewlett to try to stop Abe.

Eventually, Molly stopped running, and she began to wander through the woods as she made her way back to Whitehall. She could feel herself slipping deeper and deeper into her thoughts. _Abe has always been like this_. She told herself. And she knew it to be the truth. Although his heart was in the right place, and he was helping the cause, Molly knew that so many of his decisions had been done on impulse. That was why he had defended Selah, that was why he had involved Anna and excluded Mary, that was why he had killed Ensign Baker, that was why he wanted to kill Hewlett, that was why he had killed Eastin, and that was why he was now forming an alliance with Robert Rogers.

If he and Anna couldn’t trust her with simple information regarding their spying, she didn’t see what her purpose in Setauket had even been. When she told Ben she wanted to stay, she had no way of knowing how much stress and heartache would accompany her. By staying she had also done things she never wanted to: like killing a man. She suddenly wished more than ever that she had already left for the city.

 _Why don’t I?_ She asked herself.

She stopped in her tracks and stood there for several minutes.

 _Why haven’t I left yet?_ She thought. _There’s nothing keeping me here._

She considered Mary’s plan for a minute. They had spent all week crafting it, but suddenly Molly didn’t care. Suddenly, Molly could feel the same numbness she had felt when she killed Alex. _She didn’t care_.

Mary’s entire plan involved Molly being escorted to the city. But Molly began to question this. If they truly received word from an acquaintance, why couldn’t the word be urgent? Why couldn’t it ask that Molly leave immediately? The only reason they needed Hewlett’s men was in case they encountered bandits along the road to the city. They were for protection, but they were not a requirement.

She began to walk again, but this time slower. She began to plot.

* * *

Molly pretended nothing was wrong. But then night fell, and the residents of Whitehall slowly began to depart to their chambers. And that’s when Molly’s night truly began.

That night, every decision she made was driven by impulse. She went around the house, stealing anything that might be of use: paper, ink, quills, blankets, spare clothing, cloth, what money she had, her references from the tavern, ammunition, gunpowder… anything.

She also grabbed Selah’s musket. She still had it in her possession.

She left everything she had packed in the slaves’ quarters downstairs. Then she wrapped her cloak around herself and stepped out into the night.

“You alright, Ms. Strong?” one of the sentries asked her.

“Aye. Just going out for a walk. Can’t sleep.”

They didn’t question her further. She walked across the property to Judge Woodhull’s barn. He only owned a few horses, and she intended to steal one of them. She heaved the saddle onto the horse and tied saddle bags around him. Then she silently led him out of the barn. She brought him to the woods and tied him to a tree. Then she returned to Whitehall. The guards bid her ‘good night’.

She then retrieved her bags, and she snuck out the back entrance in the slaves’ quarters. There were never sentries posted back there. She huffed as she dragged the bags with her. She had no intentions of making a second trip. Once she had succeeded in hauling everything to the woods, she set to work filling the saddle bags.

One that was done, she dug the stolen clothing from her rucksack, and she began to undress. She stepped out of her dress and into a pair of trousers, and a blouse, and boots, and a heavy overcoat. She draped her dress over the back of the horse, and then retrieved a knife from her knapsack.

She set to work unpinning her hair. She stood there for a moment brushing out her hair with her fingers; her hair fell down to her chest, and it had been that way for years. She took a deep breath, then she took the dagger and began sawing at her hair. She chopped it so that is was the same length as a man’s haircut would be, to her shoulders. She kept it loose, and then covered her head with a hat. One she was repacked, she slung Selah’s musket over her back and mounted the horse.

She clicked with her tongue and steered the horse as he began to trot. And she rode away from Whitehall and from Setauket, and she didn’t look back.

* * *

The next morning, when Mary awoke, she found a letter that had been slid under her bedroom door during the night.

_Mary,_

_I apologize for what I am about to do. I am aware that it is not fair to ask this of you, but I must implore that you proceed forward with our plans without my being here. You are clever, cleverer than anyone gives you credit for. I would bet on my life that you will find some way to explain my sudden absence from Whitehall. I trust you._

_It is not logic that guides my decision but fear; fear for your family as much as myself. For if I were to remain at Whitehall, I fear that the secrets that have been kept here for so long will be revealed. The safest thing to do, in my mind is to flee. I do not know if I will ever get the opportunity to return to Setauket. This place has been my home, but, as of late, it has not felt that way._

_If you wish to learn more details regarding my decision, I suggest you consult your husband._

_If we are never to see each other again, I thank you for all you have done for me over the years. I have thanked God most days for having become acquainted with you. I regret that we were not more honest during our friendship, but I wish you and your family all the best, whether it be in health or in prosperity. Please know that I will greatly miss you._

_All my love,_ _Molly_


	22. 3x02

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re going to speedrun these next two chapters bc, in my mind, if they were in the actual episode, they would just be a series of clips that would total maybe 10 or 15 minutes of screen time (at the most). Also, there is a time jump, and I’m not too keen on dragging this out longer than it needs to be.

The adrenaline from running away soon faded. By time the sun was rising, Molly’s was half asleep on her horse, her head bobbing as sleep tried to take her, but she kept fighting it. Ironically, the more tired she became, the clearer her head was.

At sunrise, she stopped her horse and sat there for a moment, staring out at the vast landscape of woods surrounding her.

 _What am I doing?_ She asked herself. And suddenly a wave of regret washed over her. She regretted everything, and now the guilt was coming. She lied to Mary in that letter. She told her that she had fled in order to protect them. But she lied. The truth was, last night, Molly had only been thinking of herself. She was scared, so she ran away, like a coward.

She had panicked last night, and let her fear guide her decisions. That was why she stole the Judge’s horse, and that was why she was dressed like a man.

But now, she realized the reality of her situation. She had nobody. She had nowhere to go. She was still on Long Island, and the only way off the island was by ferry. But if she did secure a ferry, she knew she couldn’t go to New York like this. There was no way she could explain any of this to anyone without revealing herself to be a Patriot.

And she was too frightened and too proud to admit her mistakes and return to Setauket. Her only hope would be if she managed to sneak back to the dead drop and wait for Caleb to visit. But she had no idea how long that could be. With Abe and Rogers’ alliance, she doubted they would be signaling Caleb for a very long time.

As for her letter to Mary, she asked Mary to cover for her. Although she trusted Mary, she also would not blame her friend for revealing the true nature of her departure. She looked down at her lap. Her dress was still hung over the horse’s back. She didn’t know why she had kept it.

For a brief moment, she considered seeking out Selah. She knew he was in the Patriot controlled territory, but she had no idea where. She hadn’t heard new from him or of him since he and Ben led the attack on Setauket. Even if by some miracle she did find him, she could not hide her involvement with the ring from him. And she had no desire to endanger him with that knowledge.

So, that left her with only one option: _Ben_.

Although she had not heard from him in months, she still remembered the last letter where he detailed his location.

_I apologize for the lack of correspondence. I am afraid I well overestimated my ability to write under the present circumstances._ _We have finished settling into our camp for the winter. We are in Pennsylvania at a place called Valley Forge. The weather has already proven to be harsh, and Washington expects no attacks upon our army until the ground can thaw in Spring._

“Valley Forge, Pennsylvania.” She said aloud. That’s where Ben was.

She threw her dress to the ground. Then she clicked her tongue and steered her horse around so that they were traveling south. 

* * *

It was midmorning when she reached Southampton, Long Island. Her horse was utterly exhausted, and she was too. She was starving, and she hadn’t slept, and her thighs ached from riding for so long. She had never been to Southampton before, so she knew she little chance of being recognized. Southampton was located on the furthest southeastern corner of Long Island. 

She sold her horse to the first merchant she found, and then used that money to purchase some food. She gulped down her meager meal and then headed down to the docks. Southampton was even small than Setauket, so she knew she could not be picky with her options. She could feel the eyes of the locals on her as she walked through town; they didn’t often get outsiders.

She spoke to the first fisherman she saw. He was unloading supplies from his whaleboat.

“Morning.” She said, trying to make her voice sound deeper.

The man squinted up at her. He was middle-aged and had a thick blanket of grey stubble covering his chin.

“Aye?” he asked gruffly.

“Do you ever ferry persons to the mainland?”

He scoffed, “From _here_? I’m afraid you’ve gotten yourself lost. The mainland is that way.” He pointed absently in the direction of town.

She knew she was referring to York City. That was where pretty much everyone was ferried to the mainland.

“I’m not lost sir.” She said. “I am seeking a man with a boat who is willing to ferry me to New Jersey.”

The man laughed aloud.

“Oh, are you now? Well, sir, waters are dangerous this time of year. Did you know that?”

Molly scowled with annoyance. She just wanted to get off of Long Island as soon as possible.

“Aye, I’m aware sir.” She replied. “I’m willing to pay any man generously if he will accept the task.”

The man stopped laughing and looked her over, realizing she was being truthful.

“How much?” the man asked.

Molly fished the pouch with the money she had just received for selling the Judge’s horse, and she tossed it to the man. It far exceeded any rate that would be charged ferry one person to the mainland, and she knew that. The man opened the pouch and counted out some of the coins. Then he looked back up at her.

“When do you want to leave?” he finally asked.

“Immediately, if possible.”

The man shrugged.

“Get in the boat.”

They departed an hour later. There was no sail on the whaleboat, so Molly helped with the rowing.

“You’re lucky you came to me when you did.” The man chuckled. He had been attempting to make small talk since they left Southampton. Molly didn’t care for it though. “With our time, I’ll be able to get back home by nightfall.”

It was going to be a five-hour ride to New Jersey. After seeing her disinterest, the man stopped trying to speak with her. So, they rowed in silence.

“Have you got a name?” he blurted.

It was midday now, and the sun was beating down on them. They were both thankful for it because they were chilled from the cool water and winds.

Molly said the first name she could think of. “Benjamin.”

“Got a last name?”

“Brewster.” She stammered.

“Pleasure to meet you Benjamin Brewster.”

She glanced over at him.

“And you?”

“Lloyd Jameson.”

They continued to row in silence.

* * *

When the coast of New Jersey was in sight, the man suddenly said.

“Are you in trouble?”

Molly scowled, “No. What makes you say that?”

“It’s not every day a lady disguised as a man offers to pay me for passage.”

She froze. He had seen past her disguise. She looked at him warily. She was terrified he’d pull a gun on her. But did no such thing.

“You know, you’re too pretty to pass for a man.” He shrugged, “Sorry.”

He laughed when her expression didn’t change.

“Don’t give me that look.” He chuckled, “I understand. You’re running away from something. I only want to know, do you have family in Jersey?”

She said nothing.

“Friends?”

Still nothing.

The man’s smile faded, “Then I doubt you’ve heard the stories. Loyalist cowboys roam the woods, and wait by the roads, waiting to ambush lone travelers.”

Molly felt a nervous lump forming in her throat. She _had_ heard the stories. In fact, Abe had been attached by a rebel deserter during one of his trips to York City. She knew that there were other reports of bandits along the path to the city. But she hadn’t heard that the activity spread beyond that.

“Why are you telling me this?” she finally asked, no longer trying to disguise her voice.

“You’re paying me well. I figure I owe it to you to let you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

Molly refused to say anything else until they had gotten to shore. He was dropping her off in a bay near the woods, not at a port.

“Where are we?” she asked.

The woods were looked the same as in Setauket, but they were not familiar.

“Nearest town is Middletown. Walk through these trees and you’ll find the main road.”

She nodded, shouldering her musket and her knapsack. It dug into her shoulder from the weight. She had managed to squeeze the contents of the saddlebags into that one bag. It looked ready to burst.

“Thank you.” She said.

The main smirked before climbing back into his boat.

“Good luck. I hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for.”

She watched him push offshore and begin to row into the open sea. They waved at each other briefly, and then she watched until he was too small to see.

* * *

Although New Jersey was considered Patriot territory, that only meant that the rebels had control of the land. It did not guarantee that the people were supporters of the rebels. In fact, Molly had heard stories of their being entire towns of loyalists under Patriot control. With that in mind, Molly had already decided that she would trust no one.

The first thing Molly did when she reached Middletown was go to the local tavern and rented a room. She did not bother eating or bathing. Although it was the middle of the afternoon, once she entered her room she collapsed on the bed and passed out. She was too exhausted to have flashbacks of MacInnis, and for that she was grateful.

She awoke the next morning and went around town making inquiries. She purchased a map from a local merchant and then returned to the tavern for breakfast. She spread the map out on the table as she ate.

As soon as she had located her current location and Pennsylvania on the map, she wanted to swear aloud. There was no Valley Forge on the map. _It must be a nickname the soldiers gave it_. She thought. It wasn’t like she could go to any of the townspeople and ask them to point her in the general direction of the Patriot encampment. The last thing she wanted was to draw attention to herself.

So, she looked back to the map. By time she finished breakfast, she had her heading: Philadelphia.

* * *

She remained in Middletown for the remainder of the day. In that time, she purchased food for her journey: bread, dried meat, and a few bottles of rum. She also slept and began to map out her trip.

It was February. Molly now found herself on a time crunch. She had to get to Valley Forge before the ground thawed for spring. If she failed to do so, she would have no idea where Washington had moved his army. And if that happened, she feared she would find herself aimlessly wandering in Patriot territory. She had to leave as soon as possible. So, that night, she stole a horse, and she left Middletown.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I doubt you care, but here’s the routes Molly’s taken so far. I used bicycle routes to estimate a horse’s speed (seeing as a horse cannot consistently run for the entire trip). Please note that Google maps recommends routes based on _actual_ roads. Various routes I mention may have been reached (during the historical time period) in far less or more time when accommodating passing through the woods, or on unmarked trails, etc.

On horse -- Setauket to Southampton

Ferry -- Southampton to Middletown

Note: The sources I used did not accommodate type of ship or weather. However, according to Google, it would generally take 5 hours to travel 80 nautical miles.

On horse/on foot -- Middletown to Philadelphia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you may have noticed, this story is now part of a series! I'm trying out something kinda/sorta experimental for this fic, and I would very much appreciate if you could read the description for the series this is now part of. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated :)


	23. 3x03

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's where the first of my troubles with timejumps come into play. More on that later...

**March 1778**

It had been a month since Molly fled from Setauket. It had taken her that long to _finally_ reach Philadelphia and _finally_ persuade a local to point her in the direction of Valley Forge.

She was completely exhausted. She had spent most of the last month living in the woods. Since her conversation with Lloyd Jameson, she refused to travel by the main road. She was too fearful of bandits. Luckily, this strategy had worked so far. She had not run into any trouble so far. She would only go into town if she needed to stock up on food, or to steal a horse. Molly had stolen a total of six horses since traveling through New Jersey and into Pennsylvania.

Although Mr. DeJong had given her the last of her pay from the tavern, Molly still did not have much money. She resorted to stealing horses and selling them to merchants or farmers in towns miles away. Horses fetched a decent rate, and she was using that money to purchase goods and purchase a room at an inn for the night.

But now all that was going to end soon. She purchased a horse in Philadelphia, and she had already set out for Valley Forge. She had been traveling for close to three hours when she finally arrived at what appeared to be the campsite… or what was left of it.

There were several men wandering around the deserted area. They appeared to be scrounging for things of use that had been left behind. She rode over to one of them.

“Is this Valley Forge?” she asked.

The man’s voice was gravely, “Aye, what’s left of it.”

She began to look around the abandoned field. She could still see the outlines from where the tents had been constructed.

“What happened?” she asked.

“Soldiers moved on.”

“What do you mean _moved on_?”

“They left. Moved to search for new campgrounds.”

She growled in frustration. _I missed them! I just missed them!_

“How long ago was this.” She demanded.

The man shrugged, “A day ago. Maybe two.”

The man tried to go back to digging through the pile of abandoned junk in front of him. It was all garbage, but the man didn’t seem to mind.

“And did anyone mention where they might be headed?”

“Why do you expect me to know?” the man spat

Molly rolled her eyes and produced a pouch of coins from inside her coat. She tossed the pouch to the man. Just like Lloyd Jameson all those weeks ago, the man began to count the contents of the pouch.

“Do you?” she asked.

The man swallowed his pride, “Middlebrook. One of the soldiers mentioned something about Middlebrook.”

“New Jersey?!” Molly exclaimed. She had seen that location many times on her map.

“Aye.”

She began to swear.

* * *

Molly was in a very bad mood. She confirmed the location on her map, and, sure enough, Middlebrook, New Jersey was only a few towns to the west of Middletown, New Jersey. She thanked the man for the information, and then she began riding on the main road, in the direction of the Continental Army.

The man had been telling the truth. Soon, she came upon evidence that a large mass of people had traveled through the woods. As soon as she confirmed she was moving in the correct direction, she retreated to the woods once more and continued to follow. She only rode for hours upon hours. By time it was evening, and she decided to stop, so she found a place to set up her camp near a lake. She groaned in pain as she slid off her horse and landed on her feet once more.

She was depressed. She had spent so long thinking that Valley Forge would be the end of her trip. But now she was still riding another horse, and she was still hiding in the woods. A month ago, she had hardly been outside of Setauket.

Although the sun was setting, and she knew that the weather would become far colder soon, she decided that she wanted to swim in the lake. Although it was still winter, she felt hot and grimy from riding all day. She tied her horse to a nearby tree and fed him some bread. Then she started a fire, stripped out of her clothes, and waded into the lake. The water was freezing, but she didn’t care. She swam out further into the lake and floated on her back for quite some time.

By time she swam back to shore, darkness had fallen. She wrung the water out of her hair and hastily dressed. Then she sat in front of the fire. She needed to dry her hair completely before going to sleep. So, she sat there, chewing on a piece of dried meat and shivering in the front of the fire. She was already beginning to nod off, and she would’ve fallen asleep right then… but then she heard a branch crack behind her.

Her eyes shot open and she whipped her head around. She gasped as she found herself face-to-face with the barrel of a pistol. A young man had his finger on the trigger.

“I wondered when you’d finally come back to shore.” The man chuckled.

Molly shivered, but it was not from the cold. He had been watching her. She understood who he was: he was one of the Tory bandits she’d heard about. She said nothing and continued to listen to the man as he spoke.

“Are you alone?”

Silence.

“Come on, darling. I don’t want to hurt that pretty little face of yours. We’ve got other plans for you.”

Silence.

She was trying not to let her eyes betray her, but Selah’s musket was right beside her. If she could grab it, she could grab it, she might have a chance at fending him off. Of course, that was only if he didn’t shoot her first.

“We?” she finally said. That meant there was more than one.

Her fingers were just brushing the barrel of the musket. She always kept it loaded, so that wouldn’t be an issue.

“Ah, she speaks!” the man exclaimed.

He kept the pistol pressed against her, but he reached out to grab her face. That’s when she took her chance. She leaned away from his touch, and she grasped the barrel of the musket. He was still reaching for her as she swung the musket towards him and hit him in the leg. He cried out in surprise and stumbled to the side. As he regained his balance, she twisted the musket around and swiftly pulled back the hammer, then she pulled the trigger.

She yelped in fear as his pistol went off as well. Luckily, she fired first, and his shot whizzed past her. The man began pawing at his chest. In the firelight, she could already make out the blood beginning to spill out of him. She wanted to be horrified by what she had done. She expected to feel the same things she had when she killed Alex. But this time, it was different. As the man collapsed on the ground, she wasn’t sorry for what she had done.

Before she could process what had just happened, she received a blow to the back of the head. And she collapsed in a heap beside the young man as unconsciousness took her.

* * *

She awoke a few minutes later. She blinked repeatedly, trying to shake the dizziness she was feeling. Finally, she came to her senses. Her hands were bound and laying on her stomach, draped over the back of a horse. She didn’t dare move. This had to be the other part of the _we’s_ doing. The only problem was, she had no idea how many of them there were.

Eventually, the horse began to move, and she saw that there was only a single man guiding the horse. She turned her head and discovered that he was, indeed, the only person. She also watched as they began to get further and further away from her meager camp. Everything she had was being left behind. Even her musket and her stolen pistol. She still had her knife with her, but it was stashed in her boot. She couldn’t reach it right now. She feared, if she tried, the man would shoot her before she could fight back.

Then there was her head. It was still swimming. So, she remained on the horse. She wasn’t sure quite what she expected, but the man only led the horse for about a mile or so. And then they came upon a cabin.

The man stopped the horse at the front of the house and then Molly felt him roughly grab her around the waist as he dragged her from the horse. She kept her body limp, and as he was trying to heave her into his arms, she threw her weight back against him, causing him to tumble onto the ground.

Her head was still swimming, but she wasted no time beginning to punch the man. But that proved to be difficult with her hands bound together. He swung back at her and delivered a blow to her jaw. She yelped in pain as he shoved her off him and then effectively pinned her to the ground. He was swearing and spitting at her. In the struggle, she managed to bend her leg and she slipped the knife out of her boot.

He had her by the throat at that point. She was gasping for air when she plunged the knife into the man’s stomach. He cried out, and within a few moments, he collapsed on top of her, his breathing shallow. She could feel his warm blood seeping into her clothing. 

She laid there for a moment, her chest heaving. She was fully awake now. She finally rolled him off her and scrambled away from him. She cut her wrists free from the rope and then looked back toward her attacker. After seeing the damage she had caused, she experienced the same reaction she had after killing Alex. She got on her hands and knees and began vomiting. She fainted after that.

* * *

When she awoke the morning, she discovered that her second attacker had succumbed to his wound during the night. She groggily rose to her feet and she decided to enter the cabin.

From what she could tell, she had been correct: the two men who had attacked her were bandits. The cabin was in rough shape. Although there were supplies inside, and although it was furnished, it seemed that it had been abandoned far longer than it had been occupied. She guessed the two men must’ve stumbled upon the building and were using it for shelter during the winter months. It also appeared that the two men did not have any other accomplices with them. The horse Molly had been tied to was her own horse. And there were only two horses in the small barn beside the cabin.

As for the cabin itself, it was quite sparse. However, there was food, and a hearth, and weapons, and a bed. She needed to keep moving. She needed to catch up with the Continental Army. But now she was suddenly overwhelmed with the numbness she had felt before.

She rode back to her campsite and collected her things. The first man’s body was still there. It was harder to look at his corpse hours after he’d been dead. She wasted no time dragging his body into the lake, to hide the evidence. Then she rode back to the cabin.

She tied her horse in the barn with the other horses. There was hay there and water, and she knew her horse would be warm at night. Then she saw to the second man’s body. She dragged him into the barn and hid him under a sheet. She felt weird, leaving him by the horses, but the weather was so cold that she knew he would not begin to smell for some time.

It was not Molly’s intention to stay at the cabin. She did not want to stay there. She wanted to get away from that place as soon as possible, and she wanted for forget everything that had happened there and near there. She had repacked her rucksack. She had disposed of her bloodied clothes, stolen from Whitehall, and replaced them with clothes from the cabin, from one of the men she had killed.

She was ready to depart. But then it rained. And it seemed as if the rain was not going to stop. So, she delayed her departure, until the weather cleared.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

In case anyone else is weirdly interested with the geography of this subplot, here's the last of Molly’s route to find Ben.

Philadelphia to Valley Forge

Valley Forge to Middlebrook

Valley Forge to Princeton -- Molly is around Princeton, NJ when she is attacked by the bandits


	24. 3x04

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fyi there is a Ben POV in this chapter 👀

It had been raining for three days. Molly wished she felt more disappointed. Although she did not regret killing the two men who attacked her, she was still bothered by it. The longer she stayed at the cabin, the more she began to feel as if those two men hadn’t been bandits after all. But even if that wasn’t the case, they had intended to harm her. She knew that, but it was still hard to forget. Even after she had scrubbed the men’s blood from her hands and had burned her blood sodden clothes, she was having a hard time forgetting.

She still dreamed of Alex, but now she also dreamed of how she’d felt when the one man pointed his gun in her face. She could feel herself slipping into the bad place again. And she suddenly found herself not as eager to catch up with the Continental Army.

The truth was, she was beginning to enjoy living in solitude at the cabin. There was plenty of food to last her weeks. She was also grateful that she no longer had to stress about expenses. For the first time, in a long time, she was lying in a warm bed, with a full belly, and she was lazily watching the fire crackle in the fireplace.

She had nearly fallen asleep when she heard a sharp _crack_ outside of the cabin. Her eyes snapped open, and she laid there for a second. Soon, she heard a second _crack_. It was the sound of tree branches being broken. She silently slipped out of bed and pulled her trousers and her boots on. She collected Selah’s musket, which was loaded beside the beside. Then she went outside to investigate.

She feared it may be an acquaintance of the bandits she had killed. Even if it was, she had already decided she would kill them. She regretted killing Alex for many reasons, but these other two men were different. They had confronted her, and they intended to do her harm. While the thought of taking another life still made her sick, it was self-defense.

She was met with a cold burst of wind when she stepped outside the cabin. She shivered as she began to walk around the property that surrounded the cabin. There was nothing directly besides the cabin, so she decided to walk into the surroundings woods.

During her first round into the woods, she found the source of the noise. It was a man on the ground. He appeared to be unconscious. He looked like he may be a local, but it was hard to tell. He was laying on his stomach. She leveled her gun at him and spoke in a firm voice.

“Who are you?”

The man didn’t move, nor did he make a sound. Molly’s hands remained steady, but she began to chew the inside of her cheek. _Perhaps he was in need or help?_

“Hello?” she said, her voice becoming less harsh.

No response.

“Hello? Sir? …Do you need help?”

Nothing.

The woods around her had been silent since she had left the cabin. If this was some scheme to attack her, she expected it would’ve happened by now. She took a step forward and nudged the man with the barrel of her gun. He still didn’t make a sound. _Maybe he’s dead?_ She let out a sigh as she knelt beside the man. With her musket still in one hand, she began to roll the man over onto his back.

She gasped and fell on her backside. She was in shock.

“Ben?” she asked in disbelief.

He still didn’t make a sound. She pushed herself forward so that she was hovering over his unconscious form. She reached out and touched his face briefly. She couldn’t deny it; it was him.

“Benjamin.” She began to whisper his name aloud as she pressed her head and hand against his chest, listening for a heartbeat. He was very much still alive, but it was too dark outside for her to identify _why_ he was unconscious. She swung her musket over her back and made the exhausting decision to drag his limp body into the cabin. 

She found herself struggling to get a grip on him and find good footing. Not only was Ben drenched from the rain, but the ground was soft and muddy. It took more time than she would’ve liked, but she eventually succeeded in dragging him up the couple of porch steps through the front door.

She gritted her teeth from the effort and began trying to heave him onto the bed. She ended up using a chair to help her distribute his weight. Once he was on his back, she began to examine him. She discovered he was wounded and found his injury quickly, for there was a thick blood stain on the front of his coat. She unbuttoned his coat and untucked his shirt.

There was a single bullet wound in his lower abdomen. It appeared to be fresh because it was still bleeding profusely. She let out a grunt as she rolled him over onto his side. She didn’t see an exit wound, so she knew she was going to have to get the bullet out of him.

She abandoned him for a moment to search the other rooms in the cabin. She had already become acquainted with the supplies she had access to. She rushed into a side room where there was a worktable and tools, and she grabbed a pair of craftsman tongs. She also retrieved her knife and a handkerchief from her rucksack.

When she returned to him, she forced his mouth open and stuffed the handkerchief inside. She didn’t want to risk him waking up and biting his own tongue off. Then, with the tongs and knife, and began to dig into his bullet wound. Her hands were sweaty and soaked in blood, and she was shaking, from nervousness and from the cold. She winced as she heard him begin to quietly groan in his stupor. Nonetheless, she managed to extract the bullet.

She grabbed what was left of the bottle of rum and dribbled a little over the wound. His eyes blinked open briefly as he cried out in pain. She then began digging through her rucksack again. She finally found what she was looking for. A few weeks ago, she had purchased a few needles and thread because she needed to mend her clothing.

She threaded the needle but hesitated when she positioned it above his wound. She knew her stitch work was poor, but she could not mess this up. She worked slowly, meticulously, as she began to sew his skin back together. He was beginning to awaken, and he was beginning to writhe in pain. She shushed him quietly and finally paused and held a hand to his chest to steady him. When he settled down, she finished her work and removed the handkerchief from his mouth.

She began to rip a spare blouse into strips. She was on her knees, sitting beside the bed, as she wound them around his torso and tied them tightly to secure the wound.

When she looked at his face once more, his breathing was beginning to slow and become steady, but he wasn’t moving. She felt tears welling up in her eyes as she took his hand and began to pray. She spoke aloud, suddenly terrified by the prospect of being in silence.

She stopped and her eyes snapped open when she felt him stir beneath her.

“Thank you.” Ben breathed.

Then he slipped into unconsciousness once more.

* * *

Ben did not awake until morning. When he opened his eyes, he had trouble focusing on anything. His entire body ached, and his head was still spinning from the blow to the head and the blood loss. He couldn’t remember much from the night before, but he was aware that he was lying in a bed and that his clothes were dry. Someone had saved him. Finally, his vision focused, and he saw Molly Strong hovering over him.

"Molly?”

The surprise was evident in his voice.

A month ago, Caleb had received word from Setauket that Molly had fled to York City to escape the advances of Captain Simcoe and the Queen’s Rangers. He still remembered how livid he’d been when he received Abe’s report. _How could they let her go?_ He remembered thinking. She had stayed in Setauket because it was safe; however, clearly, that hadn’t been the case. Although he felt weak and ill, he could also feel a new wave of anger building, as he began to understand that Abe and Anna had lied to him.

“Hey.” She greeted quietly. She looked just as surprised to see him. “You know, for a while there, I had convinced myself I was hallucinating.”

There was no emotion in her voice. She sounded almost as tired as she looked.

He weakly laughed aloud; he was so happy to see her. He didn’t even want to inquire how or why she was here. But then he took a good look at her.

He swallowed hard as he took in her appearance. Something was very wrong. Her hair hung loose, but it was short and cut like a man’s. Then he noticed she was dressed in men’s clothing. Despite her efforts, she he decided that her disguise was unsuccessful. She still looked like his Molly. But then he noticed that she was hurt also. Her lip was also split open and she had a bruise forming on her right cheek.

“What’s happened?” His voice broke as he tried to push himself into a seated position. He winced and pressed a hand to his side, where the bullet had pierced him.

She answered his question, but it wasn’t the response he was looking for. “You’re going to be okay. I took out the bullet and sewed you up. I’ve been checking the dressing all morning and the bleeding hasn’t returned.” She sat down beside him on the bed.

“No,” Ben shook his head, wincing again as he tried to push himself up once more. She leaned over to help him. When he was situated and his back was propped against headboard, she pushed aside his shirt to look at his wound. It was still closed. He shivered at her touch but said nothing.

“No,” he said again, taking her hand in his. “I mean, are you alright? And what are you doing here? Where even is _here_?”

His head still ached, but he was trying to ignore the pain.

“I have the same question for you. How did that bullet get into you?”

“Molly-”

“Benjamin.”

His excitement was waning. Something was very wrong.

She wasn’t acting like herself. When he had seen her those couple of times in Setauket, she was the same as when he’d left her. But now she was aloof and harsh. He knew he hadn’t written to her since Christmas, and now she was here, in New Jersey. Something had happened. Although he wanted to be the one to receive answers first, he could tell from her expression that she would not back down. So, he knew the sooner he told her what had happened, the sooner she would tell him the same.

He began his explanation, “Do you remember when I wrote about their being traitors in Washington’s camp?”

“Aye.”

“Well, there still are. We had believed we found all of them, but Washington is very adamant that the soldiers aren’t to know about the treachery… He believes it to be bad for morale.” He added after seeing her confused expression. “So, I volunteered to go out of camp with one of those men and…” His voice caught in his throat. He suddenly felt self-conscious about what he was about to tell her.

He was relieved when he did not have to say it. Molly guessed, “You killed him?”

He nodded, and he prayed that she would not think less of him for it.

He had been worried about falling out of her favor for a long time now. When he visited her in Setauket, he pretended that nothing was the matter. But the truth was, he knew he had changed since being at war. He had done things he was not proud of. And he could only pray she didn’t learn about any of it.

“But not before he shot you?” she guessed next.

“No,” he admitted, “I didn’t know he intended to meet his contact in the woods. After I killed him, his contact confronted me… It’s the same man who is responsible for Mr. Sackett’s death. His name is Lieutenant Gamble. He knows I am the head of intelligence, so he intended to capture me and bring me to York City. But I managed to escape.”

“And got shot in the process?”

“Aye. I rode on my horse for I don’t know how long. When I fell off, I wandered through the woods until I noticed the light from this cabin. This was the first homestead I’d come across.”

He did not say it aloud, but he was sure she was thinking the same thing. _What were the odds of this happening?_ It must be fate or an act of God.

“And is this Gamble still looking for you as well?” she asked.

“Yes. I imagine so.”

She nodded, “Then you must make a hasty recovery.”

She made no move to say anything else. He tried to read the expression on her face, but she was still acting distant.

He pressed a hand to his wound and bit his tongue to mask the pain as he pushed himself forward. He grabbed her face with one of his hands and kissed her on the lips. He had a fleeting thought that she was still just in shock from finding him. But she sat there unmoving, refusing to kiss him back. After a second, he pulled away, but her demeanor had not changed. When he pulled away, he could feel his own mood beginning to match hers. He didn’t like it.

“Now, will you tell me what you are doing here?” he asked quietly.

He remained where he was, refusing to lay back down.

“I’ve been looking for you.” She said. Her voice sounded far away. “I went to Valley Forge, but Washington’s camp had already left for Middlebrook.”

Ben was suddenly overcome with a new set of worries. He felt the blood draining from his face. No one was supposed to know the position of their new encampment.

“Middlebrook? How did you know that?”

“I talked to a scrapper. I paid him and he told me he overheard some soldiers speaking.”

Ben silently swore. It did not guarantee that there would be an issue, but it was a technicality. Despite his annoyance, he pushed the subject from his head.

“You’re supposed to be in York City.” He blurted.

A faint smile tugged at her lips, and he felt a sense of relief at this display of emotions.

“So, Abraham _is_ alive?”

His relief vanished and his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “Of course, he’s alive.” A beat. “Molly, what’s happened?”

He reached out again, this time to touch the bruise on her cheek, but she brushed his hand to the side. She opened her mouth to say something, but then stopped herself and looked away for a moment.

“Abraham and Anna, they’re really alright?” she clarified.

“Yes.”

She began to chew on her lip. “I never went to the city.”

“What do you mean?” He wished she would stop being so vague. All he wanted was an answer, but she seemed determine to skirt around the subject. “And why would Abe lie to me?

“Doesn’t surprise me. He lies to me all the time.” She snapped.

 _What? No, that doesn’t make sense. Why would Abe lie to me?_ He convinced himself that there had to be something missing from her words. There had to be. Abe’s reports had always been so detailed, and they had used those reports time and time again to save men and outwit the King’s Army. It didn’t make sense. _Why would he be truthful about information, but secretive about information regarding Molly?_

Molly must’ve noticed his confusion because she continued, “You really don’t know?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“Why didn’t you make Anna go with Selah?” she blurted.

“What does Anna have to do with this?”

“Answer the question Benjamin.”

He felt like shrinking away from her. It was as if he was being interrogated.

“That was her decision.” He said. “There was nothing I could do. She leapt from the boat.

“Well, since she leapt from the boat, she and Abe have done nothing but endanger the ring… They had an affair. Did you know that?”

He looked away. He had hoped they would never discuss this matter. All he had heard were rumors, but he hadn’t believed them to be true. But now, Molly was confirming that they were. He didn’t want to think about it anymore.

“You knew?” she demanded.

He refused to look her in the eye, “Caleb said he suspected.”

“And neither of you had the decency to tell me?”

She gave him a shove. He yelped in pain and then reached out and grabbed her by the shoulders, holding her in place.

"Molly, we couldn’t have you all fighting amongst yourselves.” He was trying to calm her down.

“Too late.”

“So what? You left just because you were upset with Anna and Abe?”

“No, I left because Anna and Abe are compromised!”

His grip on her loosened as he tried to digest that information. If what she said was true, then they needed to get back to Washington’s camp as soon as possible.

“What?”

“His father knows about us.” She shrugged, “As does Abe’s wife. Has Abraham told you about his alliance with Robert Rogers? Or did he leave that out of his reports as well?”

Ben tried to stammer out a response, but his head was pounding more than before. None of this made sense to him.

“ _Robert Rogers_?” he repeated, in disbelief.

“I met him, you know.”

The thought of them interacting sent shivers down his spine. Robert Rogers was, perhaps, the man Ben hated most in the entire world.

When the war first began, one of Ben’s classmates from Yale, Nathan Hale, had been involved in an early version of espionage for Washington. During his first mission, he was arrested by Robert Rogers. The redcoats later hanged him for espionage. Although what happened to Nathan pained him greatly, Ben hadn’t thought of Rogers again… until his entire platoon was attacked while trying to rendezvous with General Lee. He had known those men, led those men for months, and they were all slaughtered. Since then, Rogers kept appearing in his life, causing trouble for seemingly everyone he knew.

He still remembered when he believed Samuel to be alive, and he was told that Samuel was being released from _the Jersey_. He still remembered how he felt when he’d gone to see him and found Selah Strong in his brother’s place. And then discovered that Selah had been there with Samuel when he died.

The more he thought of this, the more he realized how little he had told Molly over the last year. And he could only imagine what details she had left out as well. It was often too dangerous to include details such as these, so they were forgotten in their letters.

“Molly,” he began again, “I need you to tell me everything, from the beginning.”

“There is nothing to tell.” She scoffed, “Clearly nothing came of their alliance, because you believed me to be in York City. That was our plan, mine and Abraham’s wife. She’s been covering for me.

He decided that he had to get them past this subject. It was clearly making her more frustrated.

“That still doesn’t tell me what you’re doing here.” He tried.

“Listen to me, Ben, I wanted to help. I still want to help, but I will _not_ go back to Setauket.”

He could see she was close to tears. There was more to her story; something she was leaving out. But one thing was clear: whatever had happened in Setauket, whatever had happened between Abraham and Robert Rogers, it had scared her enough to run away. That worried him because Ben knew that Molly did not scare easily.

“Alright.” He said, “Alright. You’re with me now, alright? We’re finally together… No more secrets.”

“No more secrets.” She agreed.

He pulled her into a hug, silently cringing from the strain it put on his wound. After a moment, he finally asked her the question that had been gnawing at him since he first opened his eyes.

“Molly, who’s house is this?”

She pulled away, there was a strange look in her eyes.

“I can show you.”

* * *

They were in the small barn. Molly had helped him out of bed and guided him outside to the building beside the cabin. Once there, Ben leaned against the wall to support himself. He watched as Molly stepped around the horses and bent down to where something was covered with a sheet. She pulled back the blanket in a fluid motion. Ben made no sound, but his mind was reeling. Molly had just revealed a corpse.

She stood over the body, refusing to even glance in his direction. Ben watched her for a second then limped forward to stand beside her. He swallowed hard as he took in the sight of the body. There was a deep stab wound in the man’s abdomen, between the stomach and chest. From the amount of blood that soaked his clothing, Ben knew he must’ve bled out.

He glanced over at Molly. She was stood unmoving, with an emotionless expression, still just looking at the body.

“You did this?” he asked hesitantly.

“Aye.”

He suddenly understood everything. _This_ was why she was acting so strange. He liked to think this man had been the first person she’d ever killed. But the more he looked at her, the more she looked unsurprised. And that’s when he realized that this man was not her first. And that thought made him sick to his stomach.

“Did he do this?” Ben asked. He gestured to the bruise on her cheek and her split lip.

She nodded, and a wave of nausea swept over him. He was beginning to imagine the worst.

“Did he _hurt_ you?”

“He didn’t get the chance.” She looked over at him.

“I’m sorry, Molly.”

“Why? I’m not.”

It made him cringe to hear her say that.

“Molly-”

“How many men have you killed?” she blurted.

“Seems a bit cruel to count. Don’t you think?”

She shrugged but said nothing. After a moment, she bent down and resituated the blanket over the corpse.

“Come on, let’s get you some food.”

She turned and began to walk back to the cabin, leaving him standing there. She had no intention of helping him back to the house. He watched her go. He didn’t know what to think. All he knew was that it had been a mistake involving her in the spy ring. He never imagined this would happen, but he had to face the reality: Molly was a soldier now.

* * *

He finally managed to limp back to the cabin. He was uninjured except for the bullet wound, but with each step, the wound sent a stabbing pain into his side.

“Sit down.” She commented.

He was breathing heavily from his struggle to get back to the cabin but continued and finally found a seat at the small table in the center of the room. As soon as he was sat, he lifted his shirt to examine his injury. Ben wanted to inquire as to why he was wearing clean clothes; clothes that did not belong to him. But he decided to hold off on asking.

Molly had done a good job sewing up the bullet wound. He was surprised. Although he never said anything, he remembered how poor her stitching typically was whenever she used to mend clothing for him or his father.

He lowered his shirt and pressed a hand tightly to his side, trying to control his breathing. He finally had a chance to look around the room. The cabin was small. It was practically one-room, with the table, hearth, kitchen, and bed all there. There was an adjoining room, where there was a desk and tools, but that was all.

Molly was moving about the small kitchen. He watched her for a moment, but then she began to walk towards him carrying a cup. She held it out to him, and he accepted it. He looked down at the cup’s contents, trying to determine what it was. He wasn’t entirely sure though.

“What’s this?”

“Hot water.” She shrugged, “There’s cold water too, if you like.”

“No, it’s fine.”

She went back to the fire and began throwing ingredients into a pot over the fire.

Although he knew the reason behind her behavior, there was nothing he could really do if she truly was disturbed. There was no cure. He remembered when he had first killed a man. He eventually came out of his daze, but it took time. But it didn’t seem to matter how much time passed, because he had trouble forgetting.

The more he watched her work, he began to realize that he recognized her behavior from somewhere else. There was no affection in her eyes, and her expression was still distant. And he couldn’t help but feel nervous. That’s when he realized that she was behaving just like when they were children.

Although they grew up together, there was a time when Ben was not fond of Molly. In fact, as a child, he only put up with her because of his brother and because of his friends Caleb and Selah. Molly was the same age as Samuel, but she was also nothing like Samuel. Ben knew that the only reason Molly hung around them was because they were friends with Selah, and Molly would do anything to look out for her younger brother.

Ben spent most of his time with Caleb or Abe or Selah. His friends always thought it was great to have Molly around. She was older, and she wasn’t afraid to fight off the other children who would pick on them. But it never mattered to Ben how many times Molly had come to their rescue; he just didn’t like her. He viewed her more as a bully than a friend.

He remembered that he’d been glad to get away from her when he went to the city for college. At that point, the only one of their childhood friends who still frequently associated with her was Caleb. Everyone else had moved on to work or schooling or marriage. He hadn’t realized how much things had changed until he returned to Setauket after college. He moved back because his mother had died, and he wanted to spend time with his father.

That’s when he discovered that all his childhood neighbors had moved on in some way. Samuel was still in the city, working. Caleb was at sea, working. Abe was studying law in York City. And so on, and so on.

That just left Molly and Selah. Their parents had recently died, leaving Selah to manage their family estate. Although they had property and farmland to tend to, Selah decided that he wanted to build a tavern in the heart of town. So, that meant that Selah was gone, working most of the time. So, that just left Molly, and she had changed a lot since the last time they crossed paths.

She had grown up; abandoned her impulsive ways and her violent behavior. She dressed like a lady and was well spoken and well read. He wasn’t sure how, but he knew she was studying topics he had learned at college. And, he had to admit, she had become very pretty. Seeing as they both had a lot of free time on their hands, they began to visit each other at their homes. That quickly changed to them taking walks together, and that’s when he learned that, although she was different, she had not changed at heart. She still liked to go exploring in the woods, and she could still be loud and bawdy, and she swore better than any man he ever knew. And that was when he finally began to consider her a friend. And then something more…

She abandoned the fire and took a seat across from him at the table. She sat there pushing her short curls out of her face. He could tell she was frustrated with it, and the prospect of it made him want to laugh. No matter how cross she behaved, he knew she was the same.

“Whose clothes are these?” he decided to ask.

“Our _friend_ in the barn.”

“Do you mind my asking you a question?”

She shrugged, “Go ahead.”

“Well, when you, um...” he began awkwardly. He felt silly for asking, but the question had been gnawing at him for some time. “When you changed my clothes, I... I'm guessing that you had to...”

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” She deadpanned, looking him in the eye.

He could feel his cheeks getting red, and he began to avert his gaze. He knew he would feel silly for asking it.

The truth was, although they were at one time engaged, they had never been _together_. Ben liked to blame it on the fact that his father was a Reverend, but he and Molly both knew that wasn’t the reason why.

Well into their engagement, there had been talk that a war might break out between the colonists and the British. Molly made it very clear that she had no desire to be pregnant a time of rebellion or war. When they had this conversation years earlier, Ben had been too mortified to bring up the subject again. Despite everything, Molly was older than he was, and sometimes he felt intimidated when they discussed certain topics.

After a moment, Molly’s snorted with amusement. She was enjoying watching him squirm.

“You forget,” she laughed, “I have Selah.” A beat. “And you forget that we were engaged.”

They looked at each other, and Ben finally allowed himself to smile as well. It was nice to see her in better spirits… even if it was at his expense.

* * *

Molly returned from collecting firewood. She had been gone longer than she would’ve liked, but it was nearly impossible to find any dry wood. It was still raining outside, but not as hard as it once was. Although she hadn’t spoken to Ben about it, she knew it would be best if they leave within the next day or so.

She knew she was not acting like herself. She still felt shaken from finding Ben in the woods. Although she his injury was not severe, he was still shaken from the idea of him being shot. She knew that if she had not been there to find him, he would’ve died; from shock or blood loss.

And then he told her that that man, Gamble, was probably still hunting him. That detail had been gnawing at her all day.

A part of her couldn’t believe that any of this was happening. After sewing him back up, she suddenly felt very tired. She was exhausted in every possible way, and she could not wait until they were safe. She wanted nothing more than to be able to speak her mind, for once, and engage in mundane conversations. Now that she was with Ben, she no longer felt like she needed to keep looking over her shoulder.

She began to stack more wood into the hearth. It was always colder at night. She turned her head as a noise pierced through the room. It was Ben. He had been sleeping for several hours now. She rose to her feet and walked over to the bed, where she found him whimpering in his sleep. He didn’t seem to be making the noise out of pain. It sounded more like he was dreaming. She sat beside him and pressed a hand to his forehead; his temperature was normal. 

“Benjamin.” She whispered, “Benjamin.”

She lightly put a hand on his shoulder to shake him awake.

“Ben, it’s only a dream.”

He groaned as he came out of his slumber. He groggily blinked at her. She found herself lightly smiling. She loved looking at him. She suddenly wondered how she could’ve ever found herself attracted to men like Ensign Baker or Lieutenant MacInnis. She never felt the same way looking at them. It was a warmth that spread all the way to her toes.

“Are you alright?” she asked quietly.

He nodded tiredly and closed his eyes once more as she ran her hand through his tangled hair and then along the stubble on his face. She was about to pull away, but then he reached out and took her hand. She was expecting him to say something, but he remained silent as he brought her hand to his mouth and he kissed the palm of her hand.

He opened his eyes and looked up at her. He said nothing as he kissed her hand and wrist once more, then he reached out and put a hand to her cheek. They locked eyes, and she suddenly felt a knot forming in the pit of her stomach, and she wanted nothing more than to pull herself closer to him. And suddenly, she didn’t want to think of anything else, so she found herself leaning down and placing a kiss on his lips. She began to pull away, expecting that he had had enough. But his hand was still on her face, and now it was moving towards the back of her neck, and he pulled her down for another kiss.

She kicked her boots off and intended to slide into the bed beside him, but instead she found herself crawling on top of him. Her legs on either side of his torso. She gasped and pulled away for a moment when she felt one of his hands at her chest. He was messing with the buttons on her shirt. She looked down for a second, then brushed her hands against his as she pushed him away and began to undo the buttons herself. She hadn’t gotten very far when he was pulling her closer to him, and he was kissing her again.

She abandoned her work; her shirt was half open and falling off one of her shoulders, but she didn’t care. She hummed in surprise when he pushed her onto her back. She laid there for a minute, feeling drunk. She felt his lips on her bare stomach, and then she felt his hands fiddling with the buttons on her trousers. She looked down and laughed tiredly.

He looked up at her.

“What?” he asked, sounding self-conscious.

“I doubt you imagined you’d be undressing a man…”

He snorted and pressed his forehead to her stomach. She could feel him quietly laughing against her, and that only made her body rumble with more laugher.

After a second, he pushed himself back to her, so he was hovering over her. He kissed her again and her hands roamed under his shirt, pushing it over his head. She was careful to mind his injury. Then they both continued to undress each other, with the crackle of the fire as their only companion.

* * *

Ben was the first one to wake up the next morning. He awoke with the sun. Both he and Molly were laying on their sides and he had her pulled against his bare chest. As the memories of last night came flooding back, he said nothing as he began to kiss her neck and mouth. She stirred and tiredly pushed him away at first. She stopped when she opened her eyes and saw it was him.

“Morning.” His voice was raspy.

She hummed in reply and rolled over so that she was facing him. She buried her face into his chest and tried to go back to sleep. They laid there for several minutes, but as they did so, Ben felt himself fully waking up. And that’s when he comprehended what had happened last night. He inhaled sharply as he propped himself up on his elbows and looked over at Molly. She was just as bare as he was.

“Hmm, what?” she asked tiredly.

She was annoyed from being jarred in her sleep. He laid back down and stared at the ceiling.

He didn’t know how to begin, so he just started talking, “Listen. What, what happened last night-”

“What about last night?” she mumbled, sounding disinterested.

“Aren’t we going to _acknowledge_ what happened?”

“I wasn’t planning on it.” A beat. “Why? Do we _need_ to talk about it?”

She was laying on her stomach, but she propped herself up on her elbows. Her hair was tangled and sticking up on one side of her head and her face was twisted into a frown as she tried to blink the tiredness from her eyes. Although she was still half asleep, she seemed to recognize his anxiety, and she pushed herself forward, and took his face in her hands and kissed him firmly on the lips.

“What? You’re not embarrassed, are you?” she asked.

“What? No.”

The truth was, he was just not expecting it. That was all. He was still trying to come to terms with how _this_ detail now fit into their situation.

She continued, “Last night happened because I wanted it to.”

“No,” he said, “this was not just you. I wanted it as well.”

They both moved to kiss once more, but they were interrupted by a knock at the door. Both of their eyes snapped open as they separated. Molly pushed herself into a seated position.

“Hide yourself.” She demanded in a whisper. “Quickly, pull the blanket over your head and pretend to be asleep.”

She scrambled to collect her clothes from the floor. She pulled her too-big shirt over her head and grabbed one of the spare quilts from the end of the bed. She wrapped it around her shoulders and padded over to the door.

Ben did as she said, taken aback by how quickly she had taken charge. His mind was still reeling from the knock as he listened to her cross the room and unlock the door. All he could do was pray.

He heard her open the door.

“Hello?” she asked.

“Lieutenant Gamble, ma'am. Of the Royal Army.”

It felt as if his stomach dropped. It was him. He had found him.

“May we come in, ma'am?” Gamble continued.

“I’m afraid I’m not at the liberty to say. This is not my house.”

“Ma’am?”

_What is she doing?_

A second man spoke up, “Who are you? Last I knew, a Mr. Landan had claimed this property.”

Molly didn’t miss a beat, “Mr. Landan is currently asleep in his bed. Seeing as he is _paying_ for my company, I do not wish to disturb him… May I be of any use to you though?”

Ben felt a shiver run up his spine. He had never seen her like this, and it frightened him how she could lie so well.

Gamble’s voice, “I'm searching for a rebel spy. A man like that, you don't want him to see you coming. He's already killed a loyal minister in cold blood.”

“A minister?” Molly sounded taken aback.

Ben silently cursed. He had purposely left out that detail.

“Have you seen or heard of any strangers hereabouts? Possibly one with a gunshot injury.”

“I'm afraid not, Lieutenant.” She said. “I arrived yesterday, and Mr. Landan never commented on the subject.”

A third man joined in, “If he remembers anything when he wakes, do tell him to come into town.”

The second man, “Mr. Gamble will be staying there.”

“Of course. I’ll be sure to do that.”

Ben could hear the smile in Molly’s voice.

“In the meantime, I'd keep your door latched and a musket handy if you've got one.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant… And Lieutenant, if you find this man, I hope you make him suffer for his crimes.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

He waited until the door was closed and she had returned to the bed. She pulled the blankets off his head. They just looked at each other for a moment.

“You killed a _minister_?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“A traitor.” Ben snapped, suddenly feeling the need to defend himself.

A beat.

“What was _that_?” he asked.

“What was what? I got rid of your precious Lieutenant Gamble, didn’t I?”

“You sounded like a Tory.”

She scoffed, “Of course…. You sound surprised… Did you forget I’ve been living with the King’s Army for the last three years?”

“I-”

She cut him off, and he could see the wheels turning in her mind as she continued speaking.

“Do you want me to follow him? …I can. I can kill him, if that would be best.”

He sat up and grabbed her hand. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Molly, no.”

“Suppose you’re right. One of the men who were with him could escape. Get back to town…”

“Molly-”

“There were only two of them. Locals though.”

“Molly!”

She pouted, “What?”

He was staring at her in disbelief. Everything that had happened over the last several minutes… it was as if he didn’t know her. He suddenly found it easy to understand why she was the only one in Setauket who had not been compromised.

“Stop.” He asked of her.

“Alright.” She sat beside him on the bed once more. She was quite for several minute. “Are you well enough to travel?

“Yes, I suppose so.” He said hesitantly.

"Not now, obviously. But later. Tonight would probably be safest.” She was thinking out loud now.

He let her continue to speak. It was strange to see her like this, but he didn’t know what to do. She had acted so off the day before. But then, last night, it was like she was back to her old self. And then that morning… But now, things were different.

* * *

They waited until nightfall. Then Molly packed her things and they snuck out to the barn, still wary in case Gamble or any of his local volunteers were outside. They saddled two of the horses, and then they were off. Ben was riding in front, for he was the one who knew the way. And they left the cabin behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reasoning behind the sudden shift in POVs... If it's not clear, Molly is suffering from a nervous breakdown. I was uncertain how clear that might be to a reader seeing as Molly's perspective is the only one we ever get to see. I was worried that if I continued that narrative style, this breakdown wouldn't make as much sense. As I've said, she is an unreliable narrator. So I'm hoping that Anna's POV in 3x01, and Ben's POV in this chapter, as well as POVs in upcoming chapters will all contribute to showing how mentally unwell Molly is at this point in the fic.
> 
> Personally, I wish the tv series had gone more into detail about the Culper Ring members' mental health. We see it a little bit with Ben and Abe throughout the series (they're both very anxious people), and Caleb goes through a nervous breakdown of sorts in Season 4 after he's been tortured by Simcoe. However, those little details always felt glazed over. I didn't set out to include this subplot in fic. It just sort of happened. Idk, I like the way it's coming together... but I'll let you be the judge of that :)
> 
> Additionally, if you would like a more in depth saucy scene, please refer to Part 3 of this series 👀👀


	25. 3x05 Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y'all are read for a couple of the longest filler chapters in existence 🙃 No, seriously, this chapter was so long the website couldn't handle it and I had to separate it into two chapters... I apologize in advance, but on the bright side, I'm gonna wrap up this nervous breakdown subplot.

They had only been riding for half an hour, but now their pace had already slowed to a near standstill.

"Why are we stopping?" Molly called out. Ben was riding ahead of her, leading the way. He had fully stopped his horse and she rode up beside him. It was too dark to fully see him, but she could tell he was breathing heavily and swaying slightly in his saddle. "Hey, what's wrong?"

He weakly waved her off, "I just need a minute."

"Maybe this was a bad idea." She had said the same thing back the cabin.

She had said that it may be a mistake for them to travel so quickly after Ben was injured. They needed to get to the camp, yes, but Ben had been adamant that they should get there as quickly as possible.

They had been riding hard for the last half an hour, and Molly knew how much her abdomen ached from keeping her balance. She couldn't imagine what the ride was doing to Ben's wound.

"No, I'm fine." he insisted. She didn't believe him.

If she knew anything, she knew how Ben always downplayed his injuries. He had been doing it since they were children. She remembered when she was eleven and he was nine, and he didn't tell anyone that he had broken his finger. No one found out for nearly four days.

Before she could try to protest, he slumped forward and collapsed off his horse.

"Ben!" she exclaimed, quickly dismounting.

She hurried over to him. He was still conscious, but he was struggling to push himself into a seated position. She was grunting in pain and he had a hand pressed firmly against his injured side. Now that they were closer, she could see him better, and she could see that his face was flushed, and he was covered in a think sheen of sweat. She put a hand to his cheek and winced; he had a fever.

"Come here." She said.

He kept trying to say something, but all that came out was incoherent mumbles. He ended up staying on his back, propping himself up at his elbows. He didn't fight her; he let her undo the buttons on his coat. He shivered slightly under her touch when he felt her fingers working to undo the buttons on his shirt. He could feel them brushing his skin.

He blinked tiredly and looked down, watching her hands as she unwound the dressings wrapped around his abdomen.

As soon as the wound was revealed, she began to examine the injury. She had to admit, she had done a good job sewing it shut. She prodded the skin, and he quietly groaned, wincing from the pain. However, no matter what she did, there was no blood, and there didn't appear to be any other injuries on him. But she didn't know that for certain; she was no doctor.

"I think you need a doctor." She finally said.

"No time." He croaked.

"No, that's the thing. I sewed you up, but I don't how hurt you _actually are_." She paused. "I don't know what's wrong. We have to find a doctor."

He reached out grabbed her forearm. "We can't."

"Why not?"

He screwed his eyes shut for a moment; his teeth were gritted from the pain.

"Do you know where we are?" he asked.

She shook her head.

He swallowed, "Listen, New Jersey isn't like back home. We have control of it, but by no means does that mean that the people agree with us. A lot of them do, but there are plenty of towns all over the colony that are still Tory controlled. And I guarantee, if we were to go traipsing into a town, they may very well turn us over to the British. Or if they're feeling particularly friendly, they might just kill us." Sarcasm was dripping from his tone.

She nodded slowly in response, but she didn't understand why he was so caught up on that fact. _What does it matter?_ She thought. _It's not like he's in uniform._

"Then tell me what to do." She said.

"Molly–"

"We can't go the rest of the way like this. I don't think you'll make it." A beat, "Tell me what to do."

* * *

She could feel his eyes scanning her body, and she suddenly felt self-conscious.

They were still in the woods, but they had managed to walk a few miles from where Ben had fallen from his horse. They found the main road and began to follow it to the next township over, to gain some distance from Princeton and, hopefully, evade Lieutenant Gamble.

After some discussion, Ben had finally told her what to do: She left him in the woods while she snuck into town and stole a dress from a laundry line. If they were going to avoid suspicion, Ben had said, then they needed to appear as if they had simply been attacked. If Molly was dressed in men's clothing, it would raise too many questions.

And now she had returned to him, and she was quickly changing into the stolen dress. Ben stood beside their horses, leaning his weight against the animals to steady himself.

"Do you have to watch me?" she blurted.

" _It's nothing I haven't seen before_." He mimicked what she had said back at the cabin.

She paused, still half naked, and glanced over at him. He had a satisfied grin on his face. She knew he was trying to lighten the mood, and maybe if he wasn't injured, she might've laughed. But not this time. Regardless, she was glad to see he was in better spirits, even if it was at her expense.

"You're not funny." She lied, beginning to tie the laces up the front of the corset. She was struggling though. The dress was far too tight, but it was the only one she had dared to take. It was more of a nightdress than a real dress, but she figured it would do well enough. A night dress was less likely to be missed… or recognized.

He noticed her struggling because he said, "Come here."

She rolled her eyed slightly, still feeling self-conscious, but she complied. He shifted his weight partially against her when she stood in front of him.

It was an awkward arrangement, but all in all, Ben held the two sides of the corset together, giving Molly enough room to finish lacing it all together. When it was finished, he let go of the fabric and she grunted in discomfort as the corset constricted her upper body. She was extremely uncomfortable, but at least the dress would hide the obvious fact that her corset was too small for her frame.

"Alright," she said once she'd finished fully dressing.

Ben's plan was simple: they would wander into the nearest township and pretend to be a Tory couple fleeing from rebels. They would say they were attacked, but they managed to escape, and that was why Ben was shot.

He gave Molly the freedom to fill in any smaller details as they came up. He still remembered the way she had lied to Lieutenant Gamble. He decided she would be more convincing than he ever could be.

"Ready?" she asked.

He nodded. They each took their horse's reigns in their hands. Ben slung an arm over Molly's shoulder, and she wrapped an arm around his torso. And they began their slow pace out of the woods and into the township.

* * *

"Help! We need help!"

Molly's voice echoed through the night as they began to wander into the center of the nearest town. It didn't take long for a local man to hurry out of his house; he was middle-aged with a short beard, and his clothing was baggy and clearly only recently thrown on.

"Please, we need help!" Molly could hear the strain in her voice.

The man hurried over and helped keep Ben on his feet. They stopped briefly as the man had Ben arm slung over one of his shoulder and Molly moved to grab the reins to both of their horses.

"What in God's name has happened to you two?" he asked. He had a thick Irish accent.

"The rebels," Molly breathed, "they attacked us."

"Those damned bastards!" The man swore, "Come on, this way."

He nodded, gesturing for them both to keep pace with him. He led them across the small town center to a smallish building. There was a sign out front, but Molly could not make out the lettering. It didn't matter though; she knew who the man was taking them too. The local began pounding on the door.

"Giles! Quickly! There's been an accident!" the man boomed.

After a couple minutes, Molly saw one of the windows become illuminated by candlelight, and then she heard shuffling behind the door. The door swung open and a handsome young man stood there. He looked to be about Ben's age. The man – Giles – stood there topless; his hair was unkempt, and he was rushing to pull a shirt over his head.

"Yes?" he asked, his voice hoarse from sleep. "Yes?"

"Patient for you." The local man said, "Here." He turned and gestured for Molly to help keep Ben upright. "I'll move your animals round back." They made the exchange quickly. Molly and Giles helped Ben into the building while the local man vanished with the horses.

"What's happened?"

"I've been shot." Ben said.

"Aye," Molly nodded.

"This way." Giles instructed,

The building was small. To one side of the room, a door led to a bedroom. The rest of the space was open, more or less, and there were two tables. One was covered in papers and a few dishes, the other was empty. He led them to the empty one, and he had Ben lay down on it. He motioned for Molly to grab a nearby candle to provide him with light.

"Where is it?"

"Here?" Ben said, lifting his shirt.

Giles helped love the fabric aside and began to examine the wound. He paused when he noticed the stitching.

"Who did this?" he asked.

Molly spoke up, "I did."

"Then, I'm sorry I have to do this." He muttered under his breath. He moved to a nearby desk and rifled through one of the drawers. He returned after a moment with a small bag of medical instruments and a bottle of rum. "Drink." He said, handing Ben the bottle. Ben complied.

Molly stood there, holding the candle in her hand, unsure of what to make of everything. She didn't know what he meant. Before she could ask any questions, the local man returned from outside.

"I brought the animals to John's yard. He won't mind. I'll tell him later." The man said, joining then beside the table. "So what are we doing here?" He was addressing Giles.

Giles waved his hand and took the bottle back from Ben. Ben had managed to drink over half of the bottle; he was blinking repeatedly, and he hiccupped slightly. Molly could tell he was already slightly tipsy.

"I need you to hold him down." Giles said.

"W-What?" Molly's voice broke through. She knew she had no business questioning the doctor, but she was also skeptical. She was always skeptical when she didn't have control in situations.

Giles waved her off, "It's fine ma'am, just keep that light high for us."

Before Molly could say anything else, the local man pushed Ben down so that he was lying on his back and he held him down by the shoulders. And then Giles had a surgical knife in his hands, and he began to slice away all of Molly's stitch work. Ben cried out in pain and struggled slightly, but the local man kept him down.

Molly winced, her mouth agape in shock and uncertainty as she watched Giles widen Ben's bullet injury. Then he took a pair of forceps and began to dig around in the newly exposed flesh. The entire thing lasted only a couple of minutes, and then Giles lifted the forceps from Ben's newly bloodied abdomen. She felt the blood drain from her face. Between the tongs was a small metal fragment.

Her mind began racing, trying to think back to when she removed the bullet in the cabin. And she was trying to think, but she couldn't remember ever examining the bullet she removed. She had been too on edge. She had just assumed she had gotten out the bullet all in one piece. But now it seemed that her work had been in vain, her sewing had been in vain, because Ben had been walking around with bullet fragments still in his abdomen. She might as well have missed the whole blasted bullet.

"You want to sew him up again?"

Molly blinked; it took her a moment to comprehend the comment.

"I-I suppose." She stuttered.

He produced a thread and needle from the medical pouch and handed it to her.

"You still need me?" the local man asked.

Although he wasn't talking to her, Molly answered anyway, "No, we'll be okay… Thank you."

Molly could hear the man and Giles speaking in hushed tones near her. She could've eavesdropped easily, but she didn't want to. She was beside Ben now. She laid the candle down on the table beside him. His eyes were closed, but he was tiredly fidgeting.

"Hey." She whispered, running a hand through his hair. He was still pale, and his skin was damp with sweat. "I think you're okay now."

She kept whispering as she went to sew up his wound. She knew most of what she was saying didn't make any sense, but she kept talking anyway. It seemed to calm him down, because he didn't move away from her as she moved the needle through his skin.

She knew her voice was shaking, just like her hands were. In fact, her entire body was trembling. She had nearly finished when she realized that someone was looking over her shoulder. She turned and Giles was standing there. He was eyeing her hands.

"You alright there?" he asked.

"Aye." She stammered. She paused, not exactly sure what to say next. For the first time in a long time, she felt clueless. "We can't pay you. We don't have any money."

Giles shrugged, "Let's not discuss that now." He slowly took the needle and thread from her. She stood there, watching his hands work as he finished sewing up the wound. "How did it happen? Mr. Yancy said you mentioned the rebels."

"Aye. A few soldiers came to our home demanding supplies. When we refused, they took them by force, burnt down our home. We managed to escape, but not before they shot my husband." Molly scared herself sometimes; it was so easy for her to lie; it had always been like that for her.

Giles was now using a damp cloth to clean up the blood on Ben's torso. Ben had stopped fidgeting, and his breathing had slowed. He was asleep.

The doctor finished his work quietly, not intending to continue the discussion. Molly didn't want to say anything either. She felt embarrassed, and she knew she was blushing. She was convinced that _she_ had nearly killed Ben. For God's sake, she hadn't even considered checking to ensure the bullet came out in one piece.

She was watching the doctor, but she wasn't comprehending anything anymore. She kept thinking about that night; finding him in the woods. She remembered how on edge she was from those men she had killed, and then Ben was there, and she didn't know what to make of it. And there was blood everywhere, after she felt like she had just cleaned so much blood off her hands, and then Ben's blood was on her. And she couldn't seem to make her hands stop shaking, and she remembered praying, and although she wanted to mean what she was saying, the words were just something to keep the silence away. To keep her sane, to keep –

"You alright?"

She jumped at the sudden voice. The doctor, Giles, was still stood beside her, but he was staring at her now. _He is handsome_ , she thought fleetingly.

"Are you alright?" the man asked again.

"No." Her voice was strained, and that's when she recognized the tightness in her throat, and she realized she was crying.

Giles said nothing as he handed her Ben's half-finished bottle of rum. She didn't hesitate, she lifted it to her lips and began to gulp down the liquid. It didn't help though. Even after she finished the bottle, her hands were still shaking.

She didn't even know it until she was already laying down, but Giles had led her over to the side bedroom, and he made her lay down. When he pulled the blankets over her and after he'd left the room, she knew was sleeping in his bed. And she wanted to thank him for his kindness. But even those thoughts were quickly lost to her, and she closed her eyes and fell asleep.

* * *

Ben woke up groaning the next morning. His side burned with pain and his head ached with a hangover. He moved his head from side to side, trying to remembered what had happened. He blinked and saw the man from last night hovering over him. He was struggling to remember his name.

"Easy there." The man said, examining his wound. "We patched you up good enough. Seems your lady forgot to remove that bullet from you." He chuckled slightly, trying to lighten the mood. It didn't work though.

"Thank you." Ben's voice was raspy, and he coughed, trying to clear his throat. "Where are we?"

"Franklin Township."

So they were still in New Jersey, and even closer to Middlebrook than before. They only needed to ride for a few more hours to reach the campsite.

"Your lady says yous was attacked by the rebels." The doctor had a strange accent. He was clearly educated enough to be a doctor, but he didn't sound educated when he spoke. His sentences were riddled with slang.

"Yes, we were."

"You got a name?"

"Um, Benjamin Brewster." Caleb's name was the first one that came to him.

They shook hands.

"Giles Bailey." The doctor said.

"My wife's name is Molly." Ben paused, "Where is she?"

"Still sleeping. She was pretty distressed after last night." He shrugged, "You know how women are."

Ben felt himself tense. He had never liked when other men said things like that. He had known Molly a long time; he knew better than to reduce her to some hysterical creature. He said nothing though.

"I gave her my bed." Giles continued. "Seemed impolite to give her the other table."

He wasn't sure how to respond, but luckily, he didn't have to.

"Hungry?" Giles asked.

He nodded and then the doctor was helping him to his feet.

* * *

They had been in the Franklin Township for three days.

With each passing day, Ben was becoming more anxious about the prospect of Gamble discovering them. He knew they still couldn't travel though. His injury was now healing all over again, but it was different this time. Ben knew his health was improving each day. In fact, his stomach had started itching as the skin around his wound reknitted itself together.

His anxiousness was nothing compared to Molly's though. Dr. Giles Bailey was good enough company, but from the first second they could speak privately, Molly had voiced her distrust towards him. She didn't seem to trust anyone but Ben these days. He noticed how she always seemed to be looking over her shoulder. She was jumpy and quiet and still in the same mood she had been when he woke up in that cabin.

Something was wrong, it was still wrong, but they hardly had time to speak alone. So, Ben couldn't directly ask her about it. So, he said nothing.

* * *

The next morning, in the earliest hours of the morning, Ben was startled awake. Molly was beside him in the bed, her back turned towards him. When he was blinking the sleep out of his eyes, he realized that she was trembling.

"Moll?"

He lightly coughed, his throat was dry. She shifted beside him and pressed her face into one of the pillows. He laid there for a moment, completely still. He could feel the mattress shaking with her heavy breathing. His eyebrows scrunched together in confusion and he pushed himself on his uninjured side so that he could face her.

"Are you crying?"

He reached out uncertainly and put a hand on her back. She flinched and tried to pull away. He winced when he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her against him. She shifted again so that she was facing him now, and she buried her face into his chest, clinging to him.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

She didn't answer. The longer they laid like that, the more controlled her breathing became.

"Was it a nightmare?"

Still no answer.

"I have them too… I have them a lot, actually…"

A beat.

"It's going to be okay. We just need to get to camp."

"What if we don't?"

She finally spoke up, but her voice was barely above a whisper.

"Don't do what?"

"Go to camp." She shifted again, and although the room was dark, he knew she was looking him in the face. "What's the point of all this?" A beat. "Let's go away. Let's just leave."

He scoffed, but it was more from disbelief than amusement. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"You don't mean that."

"But what if I do?"

 _She wants to_ give up _?_ He thought. _She wants to abandon all our principles. All our hard work._

"And do what?" He swallowed. "Run away?"

She didn't answer, and that's when he knew she was very much serious.

"Where is this coming from?"

He felt her shrug against him.

"Do you want to do it?" her voice sounded more determined now.

"Of course not! We can't just leave. What about the cause?"

"What about it?"

And that's when he understood: She was a much different person than the one he left behind last time he visited Setauket. They had said _no more secrets_ , but he was certain she had not been truly honest with him. He had no doubt that she had left Setauket for a good reason, but he had no idea what that reason was.

So he was now stuck wondering, _What happened back home?_

They left Franklin Township by the end of the week.

* * *

Molly was hurrying to keep up with Ben's pace.

By morning, they had reached the Continental Army. After leaving their horses with a lower-ranking soldier, Ben had set his sights on locating where his tent had been set up. If she had been more familiar with the camp, she would have been able to keep up better. But she kept stumbling as she paused to take in her surroundings.

When they arrived in Middlebrook, the army had not been there very long, and the camp was still being assembled. Soldiers and camp followers alike were rushing around camp. Some were unloading the baggage trains, others were delivering belongings to the appropriate tents, tents were being still being pitched, and so on. It was organized, but it also looked like complete chaos.

She was in a much better mood than she was the other night, and she could tell that Ben was relieved by it. She still felt strange though. What she said, about leaving everything behind, she had half meant it. But now, in that moment, she felt silly for meaning it.

They had talked much during their ride into camp, but now Ben had gone quiet. She understood though. Ever since what happened the other night, things were different between them. Whenever he touched her, she involuntary shivered, and sometimes he would look at her a certain way, and she'd just have to bite the inside of her cheek and look away because she couldn't contain her smile. She felt silly; like a giddy child; but she just couldn't contain herself. She suspected he was experiencing the same feelings, but they hadn't talked about it.

Finally, Ben approached a tent and beckoned for her to follow him inside. When they entered, Molly found a grin spreading across her face. In the tent was Caleb Brewster. Another soldier was with him; they appeared to be delivering furniture to the tent. When he caught sight of them, Caleb nearly dropped what he was carrying.

"Caleb!"

"Molly Strong? Is that you?" he laughed. He shooed the other soldier out of the tent and then quickly crossed the space and pulled her into a hug. He pushed her away and held her at arms' length, "You look dreadful." He teased. "Last we heard, Woody said you'd run off to the city."

She lowered her voice, "Aye, Mary Woodhull is not given the credit she deserves."

"Neither are you." He pulled her into another hug. "Oi, what's happened to you, Benny-boy? You look terrible too."

They were still hugging, but she turned her head to look at Ben. Her smile faded. Caleb wasn't wrong; Ben did look terrible. His desk was already in the tent, and he leaned his weight against it. He was pale and his skin appeared to be clammy.

Molly knew it was from their ride into camp. He was still healing, and the jostling from their horse ride did his wound no favors.

"Hey, come here." She said quietly.

He didn't fight her, and he let her guide him over to the bed.

"What's wrong with Tall-boy?" Caleb asked.

Molly could hear the concern in his voice. She waved him off. As soon as Ben was seated on the cot, he winced, and she noticed he pressed his hand to his side where his bullet wound was.

She could feel Caleb hovering behind her. He said nothing though, but he watched as Molly helped Ben out of his coat and as her fingers worked to unbutton his shirt. Ben blinked tiredly and looked down, watching Molly's hands as she unwound the dressings wrapped around his abdomen.

"Shite." She heard Caleb whispered behind her when the wound was revealed.

She began to examine the injury. She prodded the skin, and he quietly groaned above her. But there was no change; it was the same as when they left Franklin Township.

She looked up at took his face in her hands. "Hey," She whispered, "You just need rest." He tried to respond, but it came out as an incoherent mumble. She shushed him. "Come on." He let her push him back, so that he was laying down on his cot. He continued mumbling for a moment, but then he stopped, and his breathing slowed. He was asleep.

She glanced over her shoulder at Caleb; he was silently watching her.

"Is he going to be alright, Moll?" he asked, his voice shaking.

She nodded and began rebuttoning Ben's shirt, then she let him sleep.

"He's going to be fine." She looked at her friend again. She felt tired all of a sudden. "Oh, do I have a story to tell you."

A big grin spread across his face, "You hungry?"

She didn't hesitate to answer yes. Although she was exhausted, she didn't feel like sleeping. Her stomach was growling, and she was now anxious to explore the camp.

They stepped outside of the tent, and she followed Caleb as he started to lead her through the camp. As they walked, she told him everything. She told him about fleeing Setauket and going to Valley Forge and then being attacked in the woods and then finding Ben and then their brief encounter with Lieutenant Gamble.

"That bastard!" Caleb said. "Did Benny tell you what that bastard did to our man Mr. Sackett?

She nodded.

"I swear, if I ever run across that man again-" He swore. After he explanation, he was no longer concerned for Ben's health and he was now fully invested in the tale involving their escape from Gamble.

Despite everything, she laughed. She had missed her friend.

Caleb led her in the direction of the baggage trains. That was where most of the food was being prepared throughout the day. The camp was still too incomplete to set up a mess tent or get appropriate supplies to the soldiers.

There were people everywhere, so it took them quite some time to reach the baggage trains on the edge of camp. Men were shouting orders as furniture was being carried off. She noticed that women were in the wagons, helping pass belongings to whatever soldiers were there. Although she had never met one, Molly knew a little about what camp followers did. They consisted of wives or children of soldiers. However, there were also single women, some in search of husbands, some had business connections and were looking to sell supplies to the army, and some were prostitutes. The women would do all sorts of odd jobs around camp: mending clothing, doing laundry, serving as nurses, cooking, cleaning, etc.

"Wait here." Caleb said, then he began to walk through the crowd and into the followers' camp.

Molly crossed her arms over her chest. She eyed everything curiously, not entirely sure of what to make of it yet. The longer she stood there, the more self-conscious she felt about her state of dress. Her clothes were clean, but she missed her normal clothing; her dresses. Caleb was only gone for a few minutes, but it felt much longer to her. So, she approached the nearest women to her.

"Excuse me?"

The women had a scowl on her face as she turned and looked over Molly.

"What do you want?"

"Do you know where I might find some proper clothes? I just arrived at camp." Molly knew she sounded tired. Her voice was hoarse.

The women shrugged, "You'll want to be seeing the Missus." She pointed to one of the wagons. "Over there."

Molly saw who she was referring to. There was a woman stood on one of the wagons. She looked to be older than Molly, but not by too many years. She was giving orders to both the men and women distributing belongings. She looked far too nice to be a camp follower. While the other women were wearing aprons and had their sleeves rolled back, she was dressed as if she was going into town. She walked over to speak to the woman.

"Excuse me?"

"Yes, dear?"

The woman didn't even bat an eye at Molly's appearance.

"I'm Major Tallmadge's fiancée." It felt strange to admit that after so long. "I was told to speak to you about obtaining more appropriate clothing."

The woman gave her a warm smile.

"Of course! Welcome, Ms. –?"

"Call me Molly.

They shook hands.

"Martha."

Martha gave a few final instructions, and then she left the wagons and brought Molly to where the camp followers had begun to set up their tents.

Molly looked around uncomfortably. She wished she didn't feel so out of place. Plenty of the other women were here for the same reason as her. But there was still the fact that some were prostitutes. Molly wasn't sure how she felt about that. She thought the difference would be obvious, but, as she looked around, she couldn't tell anyone apart.

Martha brought her to one of the tents. There was a large trunk inside, and from it she procured several spare dresses and a few random articles of clothing from one of the trunks. None of them fit quite right, but Molly was not picky. Martha offered her a corset as well, but it wasn't the right size. Molly was secretly thankful it didn't fit. Truth be told, she preferred not to wear them.

In the end, Molly wore a loose-fitting dress that she cinched with a belt around her waist. She was also given a blue coat like the ones the soldiers wore. Martha explained that pieces of clothing were sent to the camp followers to mend. The ones that could no longer be repaired to meet regulation were left with the women. This coat had obviously been mended multiple times. It was littered with multicolored patches of fabric.

Molly didn't bother asking about hair pins or anything. As she followed Martha through the tents, about half the women wore their hair up and the other half wore their hair down. Although she found it strange, Molly knew she was going to have to get used to informalities. In fact, no one looked as put together as Martha. Molly wondered why that was, but she decided not to ask. The two women made small talk as Molly changed into her new clothes.

"Looks like you traveled a long way." Martha commented.

"Aye."

"Where are you from?"

"Long Island." When Molly realized that her new acquaintance was not going to continue speaking, she added, "And yourself?"

"Virginia."

Molly hid her confused expression. She did not know a lot about the Continental Army, but she did know that there were two separate theatres of war: the northern and the southern colonies. And she was fairly convinced that Virginia fell into the southern theatre. _So, what is she doing here?_ Molly didn't say anything though.

"You said your husband is an officer?" Martha continued.

"Aye. A Major for the dragoons[N1] ."

"Hm."

Martha stopped speaking abruptly. Molly's hands froze mid-tying the laces of her dress. She turned to look back at the older woman. "What is it?" she asked.

Martha smiled, but Molly recognized that it was a false smile. "It's just… I'd be careful who you entrust that information to."

"Why?" She was facing her now.

Martha sighed and took a seat on top of the clothing trunk.

"Some women get… upset about how officers are treated differently than _their_ husbands." Molly must've shown her uncertainty on her face, because Martha continued, "Officers get certain privileges that common soldiers don't. Private tents, officers' dinners… you know, those sorts of things."

"So?" Molly asked hesitantly.

"So, sometimes officers also extend those privileges to their wives. I know my husband certainly has, and I am sad to say that I have fallen out of favor with some of the women I used to be acquainted with because of it."

Molly finished dressing quickly enough, but now she was beginning to feel the same anxiousness she used to feel at the tavern. She wanted to be annoyed, but she wasn't. She was used to keeping secrets. Compared to Setauket, this secret was not serious. Besides, things were different here. Although they had hardly spoken, Molly already considered Martha an ally. When Molly was finally dressed, they stepped out of the tent, they had barely begun walking when Molly caught sight of Caleb.

"Everything alright?" Martha asked.

"Yes, um, I think I see my brother." It was a lie, but it also wasn't too far from the truth.

"A fiancé and a brother here as well." Martha smiled warmly. "I'll see you soon."

"Thank you for all your help."

"It was no trouble."

They parted ways, and Molly joined Caleb once more. He had a bottle of rum in one hand and a handkerchief filled with food in the other hand.

"There you are." He handed her the food and she immediately began to scarf it down.

"Good to see you back in proper clothes. I was beginning to think you were planning on enlisting yourself." Caleb joked.

She grinned and then proceeded to stuff more food in her mouth.

They began to walk back in the direction of Ben's camp. As they talked, Caleb began to tell her all sorts of war stories. She wasn't sure how accurate they were, but she enjoyed hearing them, nonetheless. He told her about how he had briefly served as a privateer, and how he narrowly avoided the British pirates when he traveled to the dead drop, and stories such as that. Finally, she managed to get a word in, and she asked the question that had been on her mind the second they arrived at the camp.

"Where's Selah?"

He looked away for a moment, "Old Ben didn't tell you?"

She shook her head, a nervous lump forming in her throat. Caleb noticed her distress.

"No, Moll! It's nothing like that!" he insisted. "Selah was enlisted for over a year. Our bounties are up every January, and your brother decided not to reenlist." He smiled, "In fact, last I hear, your little brother's living in Philadelphia. He and Ben write to each other. Apparently, old Selah is trying to get the nomination for Congress."

Molly felt a sense of pride as she heard those words. Despite his lack of education, Selah had always had an interest in politics. Before the war, and even some time into the war, Selah would gladly debate any man who questioned the actions of the rebels. Molly knew that if it wasn't for her or Anna, Selah would've enlisted in the Continental Army a long time ago. Selah had loved the farm, and the family estate, and his tavern, but Molly always knew that he wanted to do something more with his life.

"He's trying to get involved in _Congress_?" she repeated. She couldn't hide the excitement from her voice. "You really think he can do it?"

Caleb shrugged, "Selah never had a problem keeping up with us, so I reckon he won't find it hard to keep up with all those political bastards eithers."

She laughed, and they continued through camp.

Over an hour had passed when they returned to where Ben's tent was pitched. The site was much more crowded than before. There were several additional tents now; there were still soldiers moving furniture back and forth. They slipped inside, and Molly was surprised to find Ben awake and partly dressed in his uniform. A trunk, a chair, and a small mirror had been added since she was last there. Ben sat shirtless at the desk; he was shaving. He glanced over at them as they walked in.

"And he's alive!" Caleb laughed, playfully slapping his friend on the shoulders.

Ben shoved him away, but he couldn't help grinning. "Get away from me." He joked.

Caleb gestured toward Molly, "You'll be pleased to know that I showed the missus around camp. Found her some proper clothing as well."

Ben glanced over at her and eyed her new attire. His tone began serious, "You look nice."

Although she appreciated it, she was so tired now that she was beginning to feel drunk. She shrugged and nonchalantly walked over to where he was.

"As do you." She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and placed her hands on his bare chest. "I must say, I like your uniform. A bare torso; is that a new regulation?"

She and Caleb burst into laughter at the same time.

Ben turned and pulled her down into a kiss. She hummed in surprise. After a second he pulled away; she stared at him, unsure what to say. He had never liked public displays of affection before. The fact he had done so in front of Caleb was especially surprising.

"Alright, I know when I'm not wanted." Caleb said. His tone was still playful though as he exited the tent, leaving them alone.

He lifted a hand and brushed his thumb over her lips.

"What was that for?" she asked quietly.

Ben smirked, "Like I said, you look nice."

The words were simple, but his tone made her feel the same warmth she had felt a few nights ago.

He pulled her down again, and she found herself crawling on top of him. He pulled her flush against him, deepening the kiss. His face was still have covered in shaving cream, and she could feel it sticking to her face as well; she didn't mind it though. She knotted one hand in his hair and put the other on his back, pulling his closer.

She quietly gasped as she felt one of his hands move from her lower back and slip under her skirts. He grasped at her bare thigh; his hand resting dangerously high on her leg. She broke their kiss, putting her forehead against his.

"We should stop." She panted.

"Why?" he breathed.

He moved his lips from her mouth to her chin, and then he started to trail them down her neck and to her collarbone. She could feel the shaving cream sticking to her as he moved his head.

"Because." She swallowed, "Caleb is just outside."

His response was muffled against her skin, "Let him listen."

She laughed aloud in shock, and she felt a blush rising in her cheeks.

"Hey." She tugged on his hair, pulling him up so that he was looking at her again. He winced but complied, a lopsided grin spread on his face. "You don't mean that."

"You're right, I don't… But I do hope he heard me."

She smiled, moving her hand so that it was under his chin, and then she kissed him once more.

"I want you to go see a doctor." She said moving her hand so that it was gently pressed against his wound.

He winced and moved her hand aside. "What? Do you not trust Dr. Giles' work?"

He tried to chuckle, but then he saw that there was no amusement in her eyes. She was serious. She looked troubled. So he finally nodded and agreed, "I will."

She smiled when he brought a hand up to her face and began wiping the shaving cream away from her mouth.

"Here, let me." She said, turning slightly and reaching for the blade he had abandoned on the desk. She shifted in his lap so that she was not quite so close. She picked up where he left off and finished shaving his face.

His hands remained where they were, one on her lower back, and the other on her thigh. He didn't speak, but he moved his head to make it easier for her. The last time she had shaved a man's face was when her father had fallen ill. That was nearly a decade ago.

He moved his head and looked up, exposing his throat for her.

"I see you found the camp followers well enough." He said.

"Aye, the ones I met were friendly enough."

"When I get back from my report, I'll go over to that side of camp. Help you claim a tent before all the good ones are spoken for."

She stopped, the razor frozen beside his Adam's apple. He shifted so he could look at her.

"What?" he asked.

"What do you mean _claim a tent_?"

"Well now that you're here, you have to pose as a camp follower."

She opened her mouth to say something, but she stopped. She suddenly felt like a complete fool. _Of course, I can't stay with him_. She thought. _How stupid was I to think I could?_

"I hate to do it, but you'll have to make do living with all the other doxie-delles who are just here to find a husband." He chuckled

All her composure evaporated from her body and she shot him a glare.

"Right. Wouldn't want to do that." She snapped.

His smile faded, "That's not what I…"

"Yes it was. Or you wouldn't have said it…"

She harshly pushed his chin up and continued where she had left off. She felt him tense under her, but she didn't care. That was happening a lot more lately; she didn't care.

* * *

Although they could not stay in the same tent, Ben told her to feel free to sneak over the line to his or Caleb's tents. He said her status as his fiancée would grant her access where other women were not allowed. (Women were restricted to the areas where the camp followers lived and worked because they posed a security threat. Some were relatives to soldiers, but others were not, and Washington knew that spies could be anywhere.)

Molly remembered Martha's warning, about how officers' wives received special treatment. She knew she should appreciate the warning, but she also decided she didn't care. She didn't care if the other women knew who she was connected to. She was tired of sneaking around. And she was tired of being separated from Ben and Caleb alike.

She had been spending most of her time between Ben and Caleb's tents. Although they were busy making reports and going on scouting missions, they never protested when she disturbed them. So that's what she was doing again today. She walked into Ben's tent, only to find him busy with paperwork at his desk. He was reading a letter, but his expression was troubled. He jumped when he noticed her.

"What's wrong?" she asked, finding a place to sit on the cot.

"Nothing. You startled me, that's all."

Little did she know, it was much more than just nothing.

"Sorry."

"Don't be." A beat. "I have another letter here, from your brother."

She quickly took it from him and opened it. Over the last week, she had started writing to Selah. Ben was helping by sending their correspondents. Although she was excited to speak with her brother once more, writing to him was becoming tedious. They were arguing… a lot, in fact. It wasn't over anything serious; just pleasantries mostly. After all, she couldn't tell him about the ring. As she skimmed through the newest letter, it was the same as the others. She knew that Selah was just as stubborn as she was. Becoming frustrated, she stopped reading after the first few paragraphs. She would read the rest later.

* * *

**April 1778**

"What are you going to do?"

It was a good question, and Major Benjamin Tallmadge had been pondering that question for quite some time.

It had been nearly two weeks ago since he returned to camp with Molly. As soon as he had composed himself in his tent, he had written to Abraham, informing him of Molly's safety. He also demanded an explanation; specifically, for why he had forged an alliance with Robert Rogers. He hadn't told her about it because he didn't think it was worth mentioning.

Later that day, he sent Caleb to the dead drop. He hated to interrupt their reunion; Caleb was just as excited to see Molly as he was, and they were becoming reacquainted. But Ben needed answers.

He had his answer within a week, and the answer was what had been troubling him: Molly had killed a Queen's Ranger. He had received three letters: one from Abraham, Abraham's wife, and Anna. They all provided additional details that helped him better understand what had happened in Setauket.

Abe explained his alliance with Rogers. Rogers had visited Setauket before. Abe explained that Rogers was attempting to recruit Whig sympathizers to give him information he could use against John Andre, who he had a personal vendetta against. Abe wrote about how he rarely interacted with Molly. After Anna decided to stay in Setauket, Abe found himself confiding in her as before. She could pass information along to Molly. He wrote that Molly felt personally offended by this exclusion, but "I do not know what she expects from me," Abe wrote, "She has never fully trusted me since Anna decided to remain in Setauket. She blames me for the affair. While I accept fault, she refuses to believe that what happened between myself and Anna is over. Then there is her odd relationship with Captain Simcoe…"

Anna wrote more on the relationship, "Molly is not in her right senses. She has not been since killing that Ranger. I fear that any progress she has made to control her temper has completely vanished. Ben, you do not have any idea; the way she mistrusts me. I am made mistakes in the past, but Molly believes herself to be superior to the rest of us. She has no faith in us; Abraham or myself. Instead, she believes the only way to maintain her position in town is to befriend men such as Simcoe. I have spoken to her on the manner, and she won't listen to reason. Ben, she is just as stubborn as when we were children."

Mary wrote, "Mr. Tallmadge, I know we have never been properly acquainted, but I feel the need to write to you because I am fearful for my friend. Molly has always been a private person. In fact, I was only made aware of your previous engagement when a neighbor informed me. However, her recent actions bring me much concern. When she fled from Setauket, she endangered all of us. It was not in her character to flee, so I am unsure what exactly happened that encouraged her departure. She was a fool to think no one would notice. For the last several months, she has been forging alliances with the Queen's Rangers. She has it in her mind that a friendship with Captain Simcoe will prevent her from being suspected to be a Patriot. Unfortunately, her plan was successful. Her disappearance caused Captain Simcoe much distress. He rode nearly to York City to ensure she had not been attacked on the road. But this also means that he now spends much time at Whitehall, and I am forced to forge letters from her to settle any suspicions concerning her true whereabouts. It is proving to be more and more difficult for Abraham to get information and to sneak away to the dead drop…"

So, now Ben had found himself in a dilemma.

"You knew about this?" He asked Caleb. They were both in Caleb's tent, discussing the recent slew of information Caleb had retrieved from the dead drop.

Caleb looked down at his feet, and Ben knew it to be true.

"She asked me not to." He admitted.

Ben slumped lower into his seat and absentmindedly shuffled through the papers once more.

"I want to know what happened."

Caleb scoffed, almost in disbelief, but when he noticed that Ben was serious, he wiped the smile from his face.

"There's not much to tell. I don't even know the whole story. Abe and Annie were found out by a couple of Rangers the same night we were supposed to meet at the dead drop. One of them got to me, and they planned to turn us over to the old bastard Simcoe himself. Moll managed to find out and she followed them into the woods and distract them long enough for Abe and Annie to fight them off. She saved Abe by killing that Ranger."

"But she was friends with him?"

"I guess. She was pretty broken up about everything. Said she liked him."

Ben nodded slowly, trying to digest that information.

The truth was, he still couldn't believe that Molly had waited for him. Although she had said so, he half expected her to already be courting a new man or to be married by time they next met. In fact, he asked her not to wait because he knew that he could wind up dead at any time, and she might not hear news of it for months, or even years.

When Ben woke up in that cabin, he was grateful that she had been the one to save him, but he also knew that something was off about her. She was tense and agitated. He wanted to blame it on the man she had killed, but Ben remembered the first time he had killed someone. He had felt guilty and ill for several days, but he eventually shook the feeling; they were at war, after all, and that man had been trying to kill him.

"What are you going to do?" Caleb asked again. He was just as concerned. They could not ignore the fact that Molly had endangered the entire ring by disappearing from Setauket.

Ben had been mulling over that question for days now. He had decided that there was only one thing he really could do. So, he said it aloud.

"I'm going to let her meet Washington."

* * *

When Ben returned to his tent that night, he was surprised to find Molly inside, waiting for him.

"Hey, I was just about to –"

Before he could say anything else, he was cut off by Molly pulling him into a kiss. He made noise in surprise when he felt her hands undoing the buttons on his coat and then slip under the coat to help him push it off. He complied at first and rolled his shoulders back, helping her remove it the rest of the way.

They hadn't been together since that night in the cabin, and Ben felt the familiar warmth and the knot forming in the pit of his stomach like before.

He opened his eyes suddenly. _No_ , he thought, _I can't. I can't do this. I need to talk to her._ He had no idea how to approach the subject, so he didn't bother with pleasantries.

"I know about Lieutenant MacInnis."

Her lips froze against his and she slowly opened her eyes. Her expression had darkened. She pulled back slightly, her mouth still agape from their kiss.

"What about him?" Her voice was slightly hoarse, and there was no empathy in her tone.

"Molly." He could hear the strain in his own voice.

"Benjamin." She replied, just as strained. She pressed her mouth against his once more and mumbled against his lips, "Don't speak."

She tried to pick up where they had left off, but he refused to reciprocate. Instead, he turned his head away from her. She stopped and stood there. Their arms were still wound around each other.

"You killed a Ranger." He said more firmly.

"And you killed a minister." She snapped. "What of it?"

He hated to see her so agitated. But that's all she had been for the last few weeks. Truth be told, she had been acting like a real bitch.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked. He was making sure to control his tone. He wanted answers, and he knew if she became too upset, she might refuse to tell him.

She shrugged, "It wasn't important."

"Wasn't important?" He scoffed.

"Well, was it important to tell me about the minister?" He felt some of the blood drain from his face. "No. You didn't have a problem omitting that detail, now did you?"

He hated that he had killed a minister. The man was a traitor, yes, but the entire time he couldn't help thinking of his father or what God must think of him. He still didn't want to think about it.

"That was different." He said quietly, his voice breaking.

"No it's not."

"Yes it is." He was the one snapping this time. "I didn't tell you about the minister because-"

"You didn't want you to think less of you?"

He felt embarrassed and he felt a new blush rising in his cheeks. He looked away from her, refusing to meet her gaze as he nodded. She put a hand on his cheek and guided his face back to hers. She firmly kissed him on the lips.

"That's the reason why I did it too." He felt her lips brush against his with every word.

He swallowed, trying to think about what to say next. She was still skirting around the subject. He didn't mean to press her, but he wanted to confirm the information he had received from Setauket. He trusted Abe just as much as he trusted Molly, even if it was for different reasons.

"Molly, just because you killed someone does not mean-"

She cut him off, "No. That's not what I mean." She looked away for a second and that's when he realized that her eyes were watery. "I liked him, Ben." Her voice broke. "I _liked_ him."

He felt another blush rising in his cheeks. The fact that she had grown attached to a Ranger made his stomach churn. A man who had nearly killed him, and she knew this, yet she still liked him.

All he could think to say was, "Oh."

"And it doesn't matter anymore." She added quickly. "Because when it came down to it, I didn't have to, but I _chose_ to kill him." He could tell she noticed the surprise on his face because she added, "I expect that Caleb left that detail out."

"He did."

She lowered her voice, "Do you think less of me?"

"Never. I'd never do that." And he meant it. He would never think less of her. Even if he had discovered she had moved on and married another man, he would never think less of her. She had made just as many sacrifices as he had.

"Good." She nodded. "So we're in agreement. Don't tell me about who you've killed, and I won't tell you about who I've killed."

She started to move away, but he kept his arms wound around her. He couldn't send her away like this. He was feeling guilt, more guilt than he had perhaps ever felt.

This was exactly what he wanted to avoid. He didn't want her to be involved in any of this. He wanted her to remain at home. Though he knew it was wishful thinking, a part of him had hoped that perhaps the less she was involved, then that would ensure that she could be the one thing unchanged by the war. But now he knew he had been a fool to think that could happen. They both weren't the same people they were when they were originally engaged.

"Don't." he said quietly. "Stay."

"It's against protocol."

"I know. Stay."

So she did.

* * *

Molly knew she was acting like a bitch. She knew she needed to stop, she wanted to stop, but lately she was having trouble controlling her temper. She was well aware that everything she had done over the last two months had been done so on impulse: snapping at Anna, snapping at Simcoe, plotting to flee to York City, actually fleeing from Setauket, searching for the Continental Army at Valley Forge, sleeping with Ben… all of it.

Molly had always been aware of her temper, and she knew she needed to control it. She began thinking of her mother. Her mother had been one of the most even-tempered people Molly had ever known. For her early life, Molly constantly got into trouble. Although her parents reprimanded her, they believed she would eventually outgrow it. But then she didn't… not at first.

When Molly was in her late teens, most of her friends left for university or work, and Molly had been angrier than ever. That was when her mother decided that unconventional methods might work better to tame Molly. When Samuel Tallmadge sent Molly books about historical events or battles, her mother would study the material with her. Molly's mother was illiterate, so she had Molly read everything aloud. She would listen, and then they would discuss.

Molly remembered when they read Plutarch's essays on Greek personalities. All the biographies were about generals and politicians and soldiers.

"What made this man successful?"

"And why did so-and-so lose the battle of what's-its-name?"

"It's just like what we read before. Was he driven by emotion or logic?"

"Was that a smart decision?"

"What was his mistake?"

Those were just some of the questions her mother would ask. The more they read and discussed, the more Molly learned the importance of patience and strategy. Within a couple of months, Molly was already behaving more pleasantly. She began testing the strategies on neighbors and acquaintances, and she was shocked when most of them worked. She had been using them ever since. Until now…

She meant what she said… about running away. The problem was, she was too much of a coward to follow through on her word. She could flee to Canada if she really wanted to. But she didn't want to go alone. And she was annoyed at herself because of it.

She had felt irritated a lot lately. She didn't know why Ben had been so insistent on learning about what had happened with Alex MacInnis. That was the latest thing that had been annoying her. Well, that and the letters between her and Selah.

Those annoyed her because Selah was insistent that she should move to Philadelphia and stay with him. Although she missed him, she refused to abandon Ben and Caleb once more. _I'm needed here_ , she told herself, even if that meant she was stuck doing odd jobs around camp. She was trying to behave pleasantly so she could make friends with the other women; it was difficult for her though. The camp followers had no problem assigning her tasks though.

Soon enough, she was working all sorts of odd jobs; mostly laundry, but for some reason, one of the women had decided to place Molly in charge of mending most of the clothes sent to them. She tried to warn them about her poor sewing skills, but the women didn't seem to care.

And that's what she was doing, sitting beside one of the campfires with a small pile of clothes sitting on the ground beside her. She was desperately trying to keep her stitching even on the sock she was mending.

"This is ridiculous." Molly complained under her breath. _Some poor bastard is going to get stuck with this_. She thought, bitterly reviewing her work.

"Ms. Strong!"

She looked up, surprised to hear her name. A grin spread across her face when she saw Caleb loping towards her.

"Mr. Brewster!"

"Someone to see you, Ms. Strong."

She raised her eyebrows, but Caleb had an amused smile on his face. She quickly gathered the clothing and placed it into her shared tent – she was sharing a tent with one of the other women. Then she followed Caleb deeper into camp.

He led her to Ben's tent, but when they stepped inside, Ben wasn't there.

"Selah!"

"Molly!"

The siblings laughed aloud as Molly ran to embrace Selah; they had forgotten any of their grievances over their letters. They hugged briefly, then Molly pushed him away, holding him at arm's length.

"Look at you!" she exclaimed.

Selah looked much different than when she'd seen him in Setauket. He had gained back some weight and he looked healthy again. He was dressed like a gentleman, not like a tavern owner or a soldier. She couldn't believe how much older he looked.

"You didn't say you were coming."

"I know." Selah was smiling, "I wanted it to be a surprise."

She looked back to say something to Caleb, but he wasn't there. He was letting them have some space.

"What's this about you becoming involved in Congress?" They had talked about it over their letters, but Molly wanted to hear him say it out loud.

Selah smiled sheepishly. "Nothing's definite. It's just an idea."

"And a fine idea!"

"We'll see… But, hey, what's this about you working with Benjamin? He wouldn't tell me anything, but you're what, a spy or something?"

"Or something. But not anymore. I'm done with that, that's why I'm here." She admitted. She meant it too. She was done spying; she had decided that she was content to remain a camp follower for the duration of the war.

She didn't tell him anymore. She doubted Selah needed to know too much about any of that, especially if he was going to get himself involved with Congress. They moved to sit down. Selah sat at chair by the desk and Molly sat on the cot.

"I couldn't believe it when I got Benjamin's letter." Selah switched subjects immediately. Selah often did this when he became excited, his thoughts became all muddled, "Have you met the big man himself? General Washington."

She laughed. "No, not yet."

"Ben's always so judgmental of the man, but I grew quite fond of him during my time here." He paused for a second, then he switched subjects again. He perked up as he thought of something, "Hey, where's Anna. Is she with you?"

Molly felt her expression fall. Being with her brother again, it reminded her of all the ways she was mad at her sister-in-law. _How could anyone do this to Selah?_ She thought.

When they wrote to each other, Molly had made sure _not_ to include any information about the affair. She was still debating whether she should be the one to tell him, or if she should let Anna do it. But in that moment, she remembered all of her frustrations from Setauket. So, on impulse, she told him everything. His joyful attitude quickly faded as he listened. He didn't say anything until she finished.

"But she's alright though?" he asked hesitantly.

"Aye."

Her brother was quiet for many minutes. He put his face in his hand and he pondered over his older sister's words.

"I'm sorry." Molly added. "I thought you should know."

"No. No. I'm glad you told me… It's just…" he stopped himself.

"What?"

He weakly scoffed and bit his lip, "Well, it's just… You all did think I was dead."

Molly felt her chest tighten at the memory. That was true, they had believed him to be dead. Before she could say anything else, Selah continued.

"Moll, do you remember how I asked you to look after Anna?"

She nodded.

"You weren't the only one I asked." He admitted.

"I remember. You told me you asked Abe to help look after us."

"I mean… I'm not blind. I know about Anna and Abraham's past. I knew it when I asked her to marry me. When I was in the stockade … Don't look at me like that."

Molly looked away, trying to mask the scowl forming on her face. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. When she decided to tell him, she figured that he would be just as outraged as she was. That's what she _wanted_.

"Moll, I know he has a family of his own. But I am no fool. When I knew I was to be sent to _the Jersey_ , I believed it to be a death sentence. I knew the two of you would take care of Anna."

Molly bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from bursting into tears. She was so frustrated at his words.

"Have you thought less of her because of this?" he finally asked.

She scoffed, and she could feel herself losing control of her temper. "Why are you defending her?" she spat.

"She is my wife!"

"Aye, and you are my little brother! Do you have so little regard for yourself that you would forgive that whore-"

Selah stood up, knocking the chair over in the process.

"You shut your mouth right now!"

Molly glared up at him but complied. Selah rarely lost his temper. When he did get angry, is was different from most people. Even now, when he said that, his tone was calm and firm. Selah's was a quiet anger. She refused to look away, so Selah finally let out a sigh and picked the chair up from the ground.

"Why?" her voice cracked, "Why are you so willing to forgive her?"

"I love her."

Molly couldn't hold back her tears anymore; she could feel them welling up in her eyes. She and Selah were siblings, but they handled emotions very differently. Selah had always been much more forgiving than her.

"I don't care about what's happened in the past." He continued. "I've always known about Anna and Abraham's engagement. I know she will always be a little in love with Abe, but I don't care… I love her, Molly. I cannot judge her for what decisions she made when she believed me to be dead."

She rolled her eyes, but she held her tongue. _At least some things haven't changed_. She always thought Selah was _too_ forgiving.

He sat down next to her on the cot, "Molly, I thought I was going to die on that ship. I thought so every day." His voice broke. "And every day I hoped that when I finally died, and when you received word, that Anna would move on. And that _you_ would move on." A beat. "When all of this is over, I will let the decision be hers. But until then, she is my wife, and I will continue to treat her as such."

For over a year, Molly had tried to think about what Selah had gone through; he was arrested and imprisoned. As soon as he was freed, he had gone to war. _It's not fair_ , she thought. _Selah doesn't deserve any of this_. Molly knew she could never forget what Anna and Abe had done; she could forgive them, but she would never forget. But now Selah was asking her to make peace with it. No matter how angry she was, Selah was her little brother, and she would do everything in her power to remain in her brother's good graces.

"I'm sorry." She finally said.

He moved to change the subject, but this new subject did nothing to lighten the mood. He told her about Samuel Tallmadge. Molly had never talked to Ben about his brother's death. It was a subject they both felt uncomfortable to discuss. She remembered the letter from Ben that she was never supposed to read. She knew he thought of his brother often.

Selah had been with Samuel on _the Jersey_ ; he was with him when he passed. As soon as Selah began telling her, Molly burst into tears. She had purposely not thought about Samuel in a long time. The idea of him being dead made her heart hurt almost as badly as it had when she believed Selah to be dead.

"No, Molly." Selah said, rubbing her back. He emotional about the subject. "Hey, stop. Don't cry." Molly couldn't understand why he wasn't crying, but she supposed he had already done so before.

She tried to compose herself, "I thought I'd lost you, just like we lost father and mama"

When Molly was twenty-one and Selah was nineteen, their parents had gotten ill with a fever and died. It was the same fever that killed Ben's mother. That was one of the reasons why Ben had returned to Setauket after university, to live with him father.

"Moll, it's okay. Stop crying."

"I can't."

* * *

Selah couldn't stay, and he left after a few hours. Molly remained in the tent. When Selah stepped outside, he found himself met with Ben and Caleb who insisted on walking him to his carriage.

"Well?" Ben asked as soon as they had gotten some distance between them and the tent.

"Well, what?" Selah was trying to act oblivious.

"Is she going with you or not?"

Selah scoffed, not looking his friend in the eye. Ben had been writing to him as well when he sent Molly's letters. In Ben's latest letter, the message sounded frantic. He made it sound as if Molly was completely hysterical and not fit to stay at camp. He disagreed though.

Ben knew that he had exaggerated a bit in his letters to Selah. But, if anyone knew Molly, it was Selah. Perhaps it would be safer if she left camp. Or perhaps it would do her good just to talk to her brother. Ben honestly didn't have an idea what to do. He had enough to worry about with the ring. The last thing he needed was Molly having a type of breakdown at camp. He wasn't sure if he could handle that without having a breakdown himself.

Ben and Selah were close when they were younger. As soon as Ben began courting Molly, they became even closer friends. They talked about things they knew they could never tell Molly about, like her temper. They had both shared similar experiences dealing with her. At first, Ben had felt self-conscious asking Selah for advice about how to approach certain topics with Molly. The more they talked, the less he felt bad about it. Ben knew how much Selah always admired his sister. After all, as kids, Molly had always been defending him.

"Benjamin, this _is_ my sister we're talking about." Selah said.

"But you spoke to her about the matter?"

He didn't answer. Selah rolled his eyes when he felt Ben grab his shoulder.

"You did ask, didn't you?"

"Yes, I have!" He said. "But it's no good. I'm not going to make her do something she doesn't want to."

"Selah!"

"Don't give me that, _Major_. From what I can tell, she wants to be here. And from what I can tell, you exaggerated a bit much in your letter." He paused. "But you were right about one thing: She is mad at Anna."

Ben raised his eyebrows. He knew that Molly had been annoyed about the business with the affair, but she hadn't mentioned it to him again.

"So, what? You think she'll be alright staying here? Selah, you've barely spoken to her."

Selah smiled. "True." A beat. "But it isn't my decision. Listen she told me about Anna and Abraham." He continued before Ben could interject. "Listen, that's my business. Not Molly's. She can be as angry as she wants to be. You know her. The longer she's here, away from all that, she'll forget about it. She'll get over it."

Ben bit the inside of his cheek, but he finally nodded in agreement. Selah had a point.

Selah changed topics, "So, are you two engaged again? She didn't say anything, and I didn't press her."

Ben sighed, "I like to think we are, but it's just… bad timing."

"Isn't it always? But hey, you are still looking after her, aren't you?"

"Of course."

They continued exchanging pleasantries on the way back to the carriage. To be honest, they didn't have a lot to say. They corresponded so regularly that they were caught up on pretty much everything. They exchanged a few more words, and then Selah stepped into his carriage, and he rode out of camp.

* * *

"What do you mean you don't want to meet the General?" Ben scoffed in disbelief.

He had waited to tell her his decision until he had worked it out with Washington. Finally, Washington had given him a time when he could bring Molly to meet him.

"I don't know." Molly shrugged and continued to glance between him and Caleb, "I thought you said he was an ass."

Caleb laughed aloud at the remark and Ben shot him a glare.

"When I said that," he explained, "I said it when I was upset. That's not who he is though."

"But didn't he get angry and dismiss you from being head of intelligence?"

Her tone was not condescending; it was genuine.

"He did." Ben admitted, "But it was a misunderstanding."

He could tell she wasn't convinced though.

"Come on." Caleb cut in, "We talked to the old bastard." He said it affectionately. "He says he's excited to meet you."

Ben noticed Molly perk up and he was grateful that Caleb had said something.

"So you'll meet him?"

She smirked, trying to keep her newfound excitement at bay, "Alright."

* * *

Caleb knew that all of this was his doing. It had been his idea to hang that petticoat and lead Molly over to the barn. It had been his idea to tell her that Ben was his commanding officer. And he was the one who promised to write to her, and then kept his word. Ben had never let him forget that. If Caleb hadn't done those things, Molly wouldn't have a clue about the spy ring, and she would not have become involved in it.

When he looked over at her now, watching her struggling to hide her excitement, he couldn't help but smile. He was glad to see her in better spirits. His reasons for all those things, defying Ben's orders, dropping hints to Molly, was because he cared for her, and he hated the idea of excluding her. But he also knew Ben was right; Molly had been different since arriving at camp.

They had known each other a long time, and that was why Caleb always felt selfish around her. They had been friends the longest, and for the longest time, it had just been them. When Abe and Samuel and Ben left for university, and after her parents died and Selah began working more than ever, Caleb had tried his hardest to spend time with her. He was working too, as a sailor, but he didn't let that discourage him.

He knew that Molly had always viewed him as a brother, and it didn't seem to matter what he did. But he was hopeful that maybe one day she would see him as something else, like the way he saw her. Caleb had never blatantly told anyone about his feelings for Molly. However, he did enjoy hearing the rumors among their neighbors. They spent so much time together that most people assumed that one day Molly Strong would become Molly Brewster.

He remembered the one time he was forced to be at sea for several months. By time he returned to Setauket, Ben was back in town, and then Ben and Molly were spending most of their time together. He didn't think anything of it, at first. After all, Ben had never liked Molly, so Caleb assumed he was doing it out of politeness, but he quickly learned how wrong he was.

Before he knew what to make of it, Molly was telling him that she and Ben were engaged. Caleb remembered how upset he had been, but he said nothing. He never spoke to Ben about it; he was too afraid it would ruin their friendship; he still considered Ben one of his closest friends. But he was annoyed nonetheless.

For years, Ben had repeatedly told him how much he didn't like Molly. He found her too brash and hotheaded. But now, now that Molly was more even-tempered and well-read, Ben seemed infatuated by her. Caleb found the entire thing so ridiculous because _what did Ben expect?_ Caleb hadn't thought anything of it when Molly stopped picking fights with the other neighborhood children. He always knew she was going to stop one day. After all, they were no longer children; they had grown up. But still, Caleb said nothing.

A lot had happened over the past years. While Caleb had his regrets, he could not deny how thankful he was for his friendship with Molly. When Ben returned to camp with her in tow, she was just as happy as she always was when they were reunited. Their feelings would never be quite the same, but he was glad for what feelings they did have. And now they were here, standing outside of Washington's tent.

Finally, they were permitted into the tent. Caleb and Ben saluted as they always did, and Caleb couldn't help grinning when he noticed Molly's reaction. Her head was tilted slightly, and he could tell she was sizing the General up. Washington looked to same to Caleb as he always did; tall.

"General Washington." Ben spoke up. "It's my pleasure to introduce my fiancée, Ms. Molly Strong."

Washington smiled and bowed his head slightly, "Madam. It is my great honor to welcome you to this army that you have kept alive and whole through your good works."

"Thank you, sir." She bowed her head slightly as well.

"On behalf of those who will never know the true measure of your efforts, I thank you for them and for all the sacrifices you have made in the name of our cause."

"It's an honor to meet you, 711."

Washington chuckled slightly. 711 was his number in their codebook.

"Well, 355, I must say, Major Tallmadge kept your identity as much of a secret as our Mr. Culper."

They exchanged a few more pleasantries, and then their introduction was over. Caleb could tell that Molly was confused by its brevity, but the General had other duties. They all did.

Molly was feeling more like herself again.

She had asked both Ben and Caleb to keep her as uninvolved in the ring as possible. She was content to act as a camp follower and nothing more. The heaviness she had felt in her chest for so long was gone. She was no longer nervous, no longer had to watch what she said. She didn't care that she had not formed any close friendships with the other camp followers. She knew the fault was her own.

Unbeknownst to her, her brother was right; she was forgetting about what happened back home. It was too bad that it wouldn't last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would Ben have really gotten drunk from downing half a bottle of rum? Debatable. During this time period, the alcohol content in drinks was typically less than 1%, so you would need to drink a lot more to get drunk. Also, since water wasn't always safe to drink, people just drank alcohol, meaning that people's alcohol tolerance was a lot higher than it would be today. However, Ben is also injured, and he did lose quite a bit of blood from being shot, so less blood in his system means that the alcohol would affect him a lot more than usual...
> 
> Idk though man *cries in historical inaccuracy*
> 
> Also, if you're wondering why Molly's characterization is a currently a mess... Nervous breakdown symptoms include: depressive episodes (including loss of hope), anxiety, extreme mood swings or unexplained outbursts, troubled sleeping, mental/physical/emotional exhaustion, etc.


	26. 3x05 Part 2

**May 1778**

Molly was trailing behind Caleb. He had just returned from a mission, one he had been gone on for the last couple of weeks, and now he was back at camp and insisting that Molly come with him to Ben's tent. She had no idea what this was about, but she feared there might be bad news, and that frightened her.

When they reached the tent, Molly stepped in first. She nearly fell over when she saw who else was in the tent. Ben was there… but so was Anna Strong.

Molly didn't hesitate, "What's she doing here?"

Caleb was behind her, lightly pushing her further into the tent. Molly tried to take in her sister-in-law's appearance. She did look harmed in any way. She looked exactly like she would if she was still staying at Whitehall.

"Moll."

She looked over and saw that Ben's expression was tense. They all found seats around the tent. Molly felt as if her heart was about to jump out of her throat. _They're dead._ Her mind was racing. Panicking. She was thinking the worst. _Oh gosh, they're probably dead. What's become of Abe and Mary?_

"Why don't you start from the beginning?" Ben said.

It was clear that Caleb was already informed of everything. They no doubt spoke about it on the boat ride to New Jersey. So, Anna began her explanation.

A few days after Molly fled from Setauket, Abraham and his father got into an argument. Anna didn't know what they talked about, but Judge Woodhull was furious. He was so furious, he went to Major Hewlett, and he revealed that Abe was a spy for the rebels. Because of her close friendship with Hewlett, she learned that Abe was to be arrested. So, Anna decided that she would try to salvage what was left of the ring.

She feigned romantic love towards Hewlett, and she convinced him that Selah had contacted her in want of a divorce. She forged divorce papers. She had convinced Hewlett that she could get divorced, and then _they_ could elope. When they got married, Hewlett agreed that he would resign his commission, and they would move back to his home in Scotland.

Within the month Molly was gone, the plans were made, and Anna and Hewlett were set to be married. However, at their wedding ceremony, Judge Woodhull announced that he knew the divorce papers were fake. Knowing his interference would ruin her plan, Anna panicked, and she lied.

She told all the wedding guests that the entire scheme had been Hewlett's idea, and that he was forcing her to go through with the wedding. She expected him to arrest her. But he didn't. Hewlett agreed with her lie. He resigned his commission that same day, and by the end of the week, he had left Setauket. She always knew he had fancied her, but she never imagined that he would protect her like that.

With Hewlett gone, so was her protection. Judge Woodhull ordered her out of Whitehall. That, in addition to the fact that Caleb's mission had failed, led to her fleeing Setauket.

Caleb gave his account of his mission next. From the intelligence from Anna and Abe, he knew Simcoe was patrolling Setauket and the neighboring towns in search of rebels and rebel sympathizers. However, that meant that the Queen's Rangers were visiting every home to make inquiries.

Caleb had taken a few soldiers, and their plan was to hide at one of the estates in Oyster Bay. When Simcoe visited, they planned to ambush him, and (hopefully) kill him. The plan hadn't worked though. Somehow, Simcoe had discovered foul play, and Caleb found himself being ambushed instead. He and only one of his men survived and managed to flee. But Simcoe was still alive. Anna was waiting for Caleb when he got back to his boat in Setauket, and they left together.

As she listened to the end of their stories, Molly thanked God that she had chosen to leave while she could. She couldn't imagine how disastrous it would have been if she had been involved in that mess. That's what it was: a mess.

"What of Abe though?" Ben asked. "His father will surely turn him in again?"

Anna shook her head, "No, I don't think he will. It was me he was angry with." She sounded sad, "He hated my staying at Whitehall, and he hated my friendship with the Major. He blames me for Abe's involvement with the ring, even though he has no proof of my own involvement."

They said more, but Molly was only half listening. Her mind was on Setauket and the ring. Now the ring was down two members. She knew that wasn't good. Abe had no support in Setauket now. He was all alone. It was just him and their man in New York. They were the only ones gathering intelligence.

 _It's my fault_ , she thought, _if I had just stayed home, I could've stopped this. What was I thinking? Trusting Abe and Anna? Since the beginning, they can hardly trust themselves._

"…Molly, you have already established a presence among the followers. I need you to do the same for Anna."

Molly blinked, ripped from her thoughts, realizing she was being addressed.

"R-Right." She stammered.

Everyone began to stand, and she realized she had zoned out longer than she thought. She grabbed Ben's hand, stopping him.

"Wait, I need to talk to you."

Ben waved for Caleb and Anna to go outside.

"What is it?" he asked.

She stood as well, but she kept hold of his hand.

"What are we going to do?" she spoke in a hushed tone. He looked confused, so she continued, "No, I mean it. What are you going to tell Washington? Surely not that Abe's been compromised! If you do that, then there will be no more ring."

Ben seemed hesitant to respond and she could tell that was thinking the same thing.

"What do you mean _we_?" he finally asked. "I thought you were no longer interested in this."

"I changed my mind. I can help, and now we may need it. Will you tell the General that?"

He smirked for a moment and then took her face in his hands. "I'll talk to Washington." He pecked her on the lips, then moved to exit the tent.

She stood there, watching him go, still unconvinced.

* * *

Ben and Caleb left to report to Washington, leaving Anna with Molly. Molly didn't know what to say to her sister-in-law, but she did remember her conversation with Selah. She decided that she would make amends… for him.

"It's good to see you." Anna said. "How long have you been here?"

She was following behind her as Molly led her to where the camp followers were stationed.

"Not long." She said sharply.

"You had us worried sick. I don't know how Mary was able to make those excuses for your absence." A beat. "Why did you leave?"

Molly didn't want to look at her, "You know why."

"Why? Because of Abe's plan to kill Eastin? Molly, that plan worked."

"Aye and look where it got us!" Molly snapped. "Anna, why didn't Caleb's plan work? Why is Simcoe still alive?"

That was one of the things gnawing at her; the fact that Caleb hadn't been able to kill the dreaded Captain Simcoe.

Anna looked down at her feet. "Simcoe knows the name Culper."

Molly stopped in her tracks; she was looking at her now. She suddenly felt sick to her stomach. _Was there more that Anna wasn't saying?_

Anna continued, "He believes it to be an alias of Robert Rogers. I don't know the details, but I think Simcoe and Rogers had a falling out. Caleb said that Simcoe believed him to be Rogers during their fight."

Molly chewed on her bottom lip, lost in thought. She didn't like any of this.

* * *

Over the next couple of weeks, Molly and Anna's conversations were similar to when they were both living at the tavern… after Molly learned of the affair. It was as mundane as it was slightly awkward.

From the moment she came to camp, Anna had begged all of them, Molly, Ben, and Caleb, not to write to Selah. She was certain that if he knew, he would have her move to Philadelphia with him. Anna was adamant that she was not to be cut from the ring, even if she had already done so herself.

Molly didn't say a word about how she had already told Selah of the affair. She would keep to her promise.

They didn't talk about what had happened in Setauket. As annoyed as Molly still was with her sister-in-law, she knew when credit was due. Anna had been willing to marry a redcoat, a man she hardly knew, in order to protect the ring… of course, it had been done to protect Abraham, but Molly tried to ignore that detail.

One day, Molly was helping with laundry by the camp followers' tents. She had spent most of the morning beating the clothes dry against a rock.

"Molly."

She looked up and saw Anna was approaching her. She nodded in greeting; she was panting from the hours of work.

"I need you to speak to Benjamin."

She coughed to clear her throat, "Why?"

"I met General Washington today, but did you know that Ben-" She stopped when she saw Molly rolling her eyes.

"What did you say?" Molly sighed. If anyone was to cause trouble after meeting the General, she knew it would be her sister-in-law. Sometimes, Anna thought too highly of herself.

"I did not come here to be simply a camp follower."

Molly knitted her eyebrows in confusion. "Well of course not, neither did I. Not at first."

Anna shook her head, "Benjamin told me that we are simply meant to be camp followers. We won't be allowed to help with the ring because 'women are not allowed to serve in official capacity'." She quoted him.

"What do you expect Washington to say? That's not just his orders, it's military protocol. Come on Anna, we weren't even allowed a proper number in the codebook. We shared one."

Anna huffed in frustration, "It's not fair!"

Molly wanted to tell her what _really_ wasn't fair, but she held her tongue.

"Will you talk to Benjamin or not?"

* * *

It turned out, Molly didn't need to talk to Ben because he already had a plan. He told her about it later that day, when she came to see him.

"Come on, I need to show you something." He said.

She followed him back in the direction she had just come from, to where the camp followers were, but he stopped before crossing the unofficial border between the followers and the rest of the camp.

"Over here." He said, turning suddenly and stopping from of a large cart with a tent pitched in front of it.

Molly had noticed the tent for the last couple of weeks. Under the tent were tables filled to the brim with random papers and items. She hadn't thought much of it.

"What?" she asked, standing beside him.

"This cart used to belong to Nathaniel Sackett. Remember? The man who wrote our code glossary… Anna doesn't want to be seen as a mere camp follower and I agreed. So this cart will set her apart from the other women." Ben must've noticed the judgmental expression on Molly's face because he continued. "Anna doesn't have an excuse to come into camp like you do. Selah's not here, so that excuse is gone. She can use the cart as a sort of trade post between the soldiers and the women. It's a good enough excuse."

Molly began to chew on the inside of her cheek as she thought – it was a habit she wished she could stop. It was a good idea; she could admit that.

"And as for you," he added, "well, I've been in need of a aide-de-camp for a while now."

She raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"Officers are allowed a aide-de-camp, but Washington ordered me not to take one on. It could be a breach in security." He cleared his throat, almost nervous as he continued, "And now that you seem to be back to your old self, I was wondering–"

"Yes." She smiled. "I'll do it."

He let out a sigh in relief, "Oh good. I was worried you'd decline. Caleb's been badgering me about the position for months."

Molly snorted in amusement. The idea of Caleb acting as Ben's secretary was amusing; Caleb was literate, but that was the only title Molly would dare grant him. His spelling was terrible.

* * *

**June 1778**

"Your brother's wife is a piece of work?"

Molly looked up from the papers in front of her.

Despite protocol, her new unofficial position as Ben's aide-de-camp meant that she was practically living in his tent now. She didn't mind; it meant that she was not stuck conversing with Anna and the other camp followers. After she had accepted the position, she had nearly been relieved from all her duties as a camp follower. She still mended clothing and helped with laundry, but that was more from time to time.

She had only been Ben's aide-de-camp for the past couple of weeks. She was surprised how much she enjoyed the work. Ben's primary duties as the head of intelligence included receiving, translating, and transcribing all the intelligence gained from the ring and then presenting that information into reports for Washington. In addition, he was also responsible for his duties as Major of the dragoons, which involved continuous scouting missions.

The more Molly worked on the paperwork portion of Ben's job, the more she was uncertain how he had managed so long without a aide-de-camp. When he showed her what to do, he had admitted that she was much faster at translating the code than he was. She better understood why his correspondences were so brief when they started writing to each other again.

"What did she do this time?"

Since Anna had arrived at camp, Ben was becoming more and more annoyed with her. Molly found the entire thing very amusing; she felt justified.

"I don't know what she wants from me. I give her Sackett's cart, to make her still feel involved in the ring, and yet she's not satisfied. She knows that we're all lying to cover for her, yet she's so ungrateful!"

Ben had decided not to tell Washington the real reason for Anna's arrival into camp. Molly remembered when Ben had explained everything to Anna:

" _You tried to marry a British officer. Now, I know that doesn't change what side you're on, but do you think Washington knows that? He doesn't know you… I told him that there were whispers of adultery with Culper and rather than implicate him and the ring, you left Setauket because of social shame… Look, I'm sorry. I had to explain your leaving to him somehow."_

Anna had been furious, but what could she really say? She was just as foolish as Molly had been when she ran away.

Molly watched him pace in his tent for a few moments. Finally, he waved his hand, trying to remember something, "What does Townsend say?"

Molly had learned a lot about the ring over the last couple of weeks. In Setauket, she had purposefully kept ignorant about certain aspects of the ring. For example, she knew that they had a man in New York, but she had no idea who he was or what he did.

Their man in New York was a man by the name of Robert Townsend. His code number was 723 and his codename was Culper Jr. (seeing as Abe was the one who recruited him). He was the co-owner of a tavern. Apparently, his tavern was a popular spot for high ranking redcoats to drink. Like Molly and Anna, he used his position as a tavern owner to discover information.

Townsend was a very private man, and the system he and Abraham had worked out for delivering messages was one of the most convoluted ones Molly had ever seen.

Townsend's business partner was a man named Rivington. He co-owned the tavern as well, and he also operated a Tory newspaper out of the same building. Townsend would place an advertisement in Rivington's paper using keywords. When the newspaper was distributed, Townsend's father would then visit his son in New York and pick up the written information (courtesy of their invisible ink). Meanwhile, Abe would travel to Oyster Bay, the town next to Setauket, to visit Robert's father. Robert's father would pass the papers to Abe, and then Abe would return home, use the solvent to uncover the invisible words, and then transcribe the information into code and leave it at the dead drop.

Abe was transcribing Townsend's information to help save time on the back end, when Ben eventually received the letters. But, since Molly was now involved in the process, Ben had sent word to Abe to stop transcribing the papers and just send them directly to the dead drop. Molly had only transcribed one of Townsend's letters so far, yet she had already grown fond of their man in New York. His messages were concise, yet extremely detailed. He left out exposition, unlike Abe, so his messages were easier to get through.

"This report's just numbers." She replied. "I'll have it done in a few minutes."

"Good. Do you mind transcribing my report as well?"

"Not at all."

* * *

Later that day, Molly hiked to the opposite side of camp, where Washington's tent was located. She wasn't going to see the General; she was going to see his aide-de-camp, who had claimed a tent next to the General's and used it as an office of sorts. She was going to deliver the newest reports.

"Are you decent?" she asked, stepping inside the tent anyways.

Washington's aide-de-camp, Lieutenant Colonel Alexander Hamilton, glanced over at her. He was sat at his desk, frantically scribbling on a piece of parchment. But he wasn't alone.

Molly felt a blush rising in her cheeks when she realized he was in the middle of a meeting.

"When have I ever been indecent?" Hamilton teased, continuing to write.

She smirked. Hamilton was around Ben's age, and some days, he certainly acted younger than his age. Since the moment they were introduced, Hamilton had proven to be very flirtatious. It didn't seem to matter that he knew she was engaged. He enjoyed bantering, and she encouraged it because (truth be told) she didn't mind it at all.

None of that mattered now though.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to intrude!" She made a move to exit the tent, but Hamilton waved her over.

"No, it's nothing. Come in. Are those the reports?"

"Aye." She handed them to him.

He placed them on the edge of his desk, for later.

"Oh, um, this is General Charles Lee. Charles, this is Tallmadge's wife, Ms. Molly."

Half of the soldiers who had met her referred to her as Ben's fiancée, the others referred to her as Ben's wife. The title didn't matter, either way, their connection granted her more access into camp than she should be allowed.

Molly eyed General Lee, trying to size him up. She remembered the letters Ben had written, the ones where he constantly complained about Lee's character. Lee was openly opposed to Washington's leadership.

"Madame." Lee said, taking her hand and kissing it.

"General."

Molly fought the urge to roll her eyes. She always felt silly whenever a soldier reacted that way; after all, she was dressed in a soldier's patchwork coat. She found it silly to be behaving so formally, given the situation.

Lee continued, "I was unaware that Tallmadge had a wife."

"My husband is a very private man." She fibbed.

 _I wonder if he still has any copies of that damned pamphlet?_ She thought. _The one that got Ben so upset. What was it called? Was it 'the Thoughts of a Free Man'? Aye, I still want to read that._

They exchanged a few more pleasantries and then Lee commented, "I suppose we'll be seeing more of you at the officers' dinner?"

Molly shot Hamilton a look and he smiled reassuringly. She hadn't heard any word of a dinner.

"Oh, am I allowed to attend?" she asked, trying to act unphased.

"Well, of course." Lee chuckled, "Though, I fear it may only be you and Washington's wife. Not many of the officers' families have the patience to follow the army."

 _Because the officers tend to be wealthier_. Molly thought. _They can afford to stay home._

"I forget." She added, "When is the date again? Is it this week?"

"Yes, this Friday." Hamilton replied.

"Of course." She faked a smile, "I look forward to seeing you both there."

* * *

It was Friday, and Molly was once again making the hike across camp. This time, she was intending on seeing General Washington.

After her brief conversation with Hamilton and Lee, she returned and asked Ben about the officers' dinner. He had only heard about the dinner as well. Washington was planning to engage the British in battle in a few weeks, so many of his high-ranking officers were returning to Middlebrook with their men, to plan for the battle.

One of those officers included General Lee. Ben explained that Lee had fallen out of favor with Washington many months ago when Lee attempted to prematurely retreat from a battle. Since then, he had been trying to get back on good graces with Washington.

Lee's theory about the officers' wives had proven to be correct. Ben had talked to Washington's slave, Billy, and Billy told him that Washington's wife was visiting camp specifically for the dinner. Mrs. Washington typically spent winters traveling and organizing the camp followers. During the rest of the year, she returned to her home to oversee the family's property.

Ben had asked Washington if Molly could borrow a dress from Mrs. Washington for the dinner. The General and his wife had agreed. So that's where Molly was off to now. She was looking forward to getting out of her borrowed clothes. They were comfortable, yes, but Molly also knew how disheveled she must seem in her patchwork clothes.

When she arrived to Washington's tent, she found the General and his wife inside. She stopped abruptly when she recognized the woman beside Washington. It was Martha; the woman from when she had first arrived in camp; the one who provided her with her clothes.

"Martha?" she asked in disbelief.

"It's good to see you again!" She noticed her husband's confused expression, "We've met before."

"Oh, good." Washington replied. "Well, I'll leave you to it." He nodded warmly, "Ms. Strong." And with that, he exited the tent.

Once again Molly found herself accepting clothing from Martha.

"I had no idea," she began, "that you were Martha _Washington_."

Martha chuckled, "Well I had no idea that you were engaged to my husband's head of intelligence."

Molly dressed quickly, still feeling embarrassed for not realizing Martha's true identity. She knew it was silly to feel embarrassed about it, but she couldn't help it. Then they left for the dinner.

* * *

Molly had not necessarily been looking forward to the dinner. So, she was not surprised when it happened to be rather dull. For much of it, she walked beside Ben and let him introduce her to the other officers.

The only thing keeping her going was the random bits of gossip Ben kept whispering to her – well, that and the copious amounts of alcohol. They had not been in a social situation like this in a long time, and Molly was glad to find that Ben had truly not changed a bit. Just like before the war, during any events or dinners or balls, Ben would spend much of his time passing on any new information to her.

Their conversation was interrupted when a voice called across the room.

"Tallmadge!"

They turned and a rather tall man was loping towards them. Ben quickly went to greet him.

"General."

"Can you believe the state of the stables? You'd think the lads there had never seen a horse before." the man began to rant.

He said more, but Molly found herself tuning him out. Frankly she didn't care about the state of the stables. Ben clearly didn't care either.

"Um, General Arnold," Ben was desperately trying to change the subject, "may I present my fiancée."

Molly and the officer both bowed their heads slightly in greeting. She remembered that name from Ben's letters. She was trying to remember what the context was.

"I was unaware you had a wife, Tallmadge." The man boomed.

Molly nearly rolled her eyes. He clearly wasn't listening to what they were saying.

"She has only recently decided to join the encampment." Ben explained, but he sounded nervous. Molly wondered why. _Was it just because this man was a general?_

Even if he was one, Molly felt no nervousness. They were on the same side, after all. Arnold turned back to Ben to finish their conversation. Molly ignored their words though; she was still trying to remember where she recognized his name from. Finally, it came to her.

"Mrs. Tallmadge."

She snapped out of her daze, realizing that General Arnold was ending the pleasantries, and she managed to bow her head in Arnold's direction. "General."

As soon as he was gone, she turned to face Ben. "That's the men who says we're cowards?"

General Benedict Arnold at one time asked Ben to be his aide-de-camp. Ben ultimately declined the offer, but not before Arnold made a few judgmental remarks about his opinion regarding espionage. He stated that spying was a cowardly profession. Ben had stopped writing about him after that. Molly did not fully have an opinion on the man. But now she did. She decided the man was rude and therefore would prove to be insufferable if interacted with for too long.

Ben rolled his eyes. He seemed annoyed to be reminded, "Aye."

Molly suppressed a snicker.

"What?"

"You were honestly worried about _that_ man's opinion of you?"

"What's wrong with that?" Ben was on the defensive, "He's a fine soldier."

She lowered her voice, "He's an ass."

Ben didn't deny it.

* * *

Finally it was time to eat and Molly remained quiet for the dinner itself. She knew she was tipsy, and she had nothing to say, so she focused on her plate in front of her. She had nearly zoned out entirely when the men began to discuss the upcoming battle. She perked up at that news and responded by draining another glass of wine.

Since she'd been in camp, there had not been a single battle. They had been smaller skirmishes that the scouting parties had faced, but that was it.

"We have control of Philadelphia, yes," Washington was saying, "but we have only just begun to reestablish our presence in the city. It would be easy for the British to come into the city and overpower our forces. After all, the people of Philadelphia had no problem turning against us before. Who's to say they won't do it again." A beat, "I've received intelligence from a reliable source that the General Clinton," one of the British officers, "intends to retake the city in the coming months."

Molly remembered transcribing that information from Abe's message. She began to chew on her lip as she listened more intently.

"That is why I have called you all here. We need to attack Clinton in the coming weeks, to ensure he does not reach the city."

The table erupted into a storm of voices. Suddenly all the officers had something to say, and they refused to wait for their opinions to be heard as they talked over each other.

* * *

The dinner had been over for several hours, but the officers were still bustling inside the tent they had used for their meal. They were now discussing strategy and voicing other opinions – many of which did not need to be voices.

Molly and Martha had been sent away hours ago, but Molly refused to return to her tent. So, she was waiting outside. She briefly considered going to see Caleb, but then she remembered that he wasn't even in camp. She rarely saw him anymore. He was constantly on scouting missions or visiting the dead drop.

So, she was sat at a nearby campfire with some soldiers. They hadn't met before, but after they saw her come from the officers' tent, they didn't question her presence. It was the middle of the night, and she was trying to keep warm.

It was a long time before Ben finally emerged from the tent. As soon as she caught sight of him, she rushed over so they could walk back to his tent together.

"Hey."

"Hey." He sounded as tired as he looked. "Washington wants the armies to march out in three days."

"What can I do?" she asked immediately.

He scoffed, "Well, you can wait here of course. And pray that we're successful."

"No." She grabbed his arm, stopping their pace. "No, I want to help."

He furrowed his eyebrowed in confusion.

"I'm serious." She said, "There's not been a single battle since I arrived. Whatever happens at this battle, it would potentially mean the end of the war?"

"I don't about that." He said slowly, then paused. "But I suppose it depends."

"If you're going, I want to be there too. What can I do?"

"No. Molly, I need you here. If anything does happen, Washington will need you to aide in transcribing intelligence."

"And if _anything does happen_ , what's to say Washington even survives the battle? If he falls, the army will fall. _You_ told me that. And you also told me how the General likes to be at heart of the battle, not on the sidelines."

Ben looked away for a second, his lips pursed.

"You know I'm right. Now what can I do? I could serve in the infirmary. Act as a camp follower still as the army moves to the battle site. Hell, I've even be a pitcher girl. I'll do anything."

"Please," he began to rub his eyes, "can't we talk about this in the morning? My head is pounding, and I just want to go to bed."

Molly's head was pounding as well, but hers was more alcohol induced than anything else.

"So it's a _yes_?" she asked, beginning to grin.

"Please, we'll talk about it in the morning."

* * *

**June 28, 1778**

The Battle of Monmouth; that's what this battle would come to be known as.

It took two days, but the Continental Army had marched south and broken into their different regiments for the battle. The battle officially began that morning. General Lee was supposed to lead an ambush on the British forces camped near the Court House in Monmouth, New Jersey. The plan was for Lee to ambush them, forcing Clinton's forces to retreat east.

Waiting to the east was the rest of the Continental Army. Once the British forces had arrived, the rest of Washington's forces could spread across the area, outflanking Clinton and engaging in (mainly) artillery battles. They hoped that once Clinton's forces were surrounded, the General would be forced to surrender.

That was the plan. However, Washington's forces soon heard word that Lee had botched his mission. Lee was supposed to scout the area to ensure that his men affectively outflanked Clinton's. Apparently, Lee had underestimated the size of Clinton's forces, and their attack was ill-performed. Rather than ambushing them from the west, Lee ambushed them from the north. So, rather than have his entire force move east, Clinton ordered his forces to split up, with one half retreating east, while the other retreated west.

Lee's forces were too limited to ambush both sections of Clinton's army, so Lee decided to focus on attacking the portion retreating east. However, as soon as he did so, some of Clinton's men from the west came to ambush Lee's forces in return. Soon, Lee had signaled a total retreat, and Lee found himself retreating towards Washington's position with Clinton being the one leading the ambush.

Since that incident, the rest of the battle had been utter chaos. The breakdown in command led to a brief instance of mass confusion among Washington's forces waiting to the west. Soon, the army found itself with Clinton upon it too suddenly, and the army was not able to launch their strategy to surround and outflank Clinton's forces.

Rather than having the battle be artillery focused, the Continental Army found itself forced to engage in close combat. The Continental dragoons (led by Ben) and infantry had already launched a new attack to meet Clinton's army head on. Meanwhile, the artillery forces were repositioning their attack in an attempt to gain the upper hand. Unlike Washington's forces, Clinton's retreat meant that his artillery was not prepped, and it would take much time for Clinton's men to fully begin any artillery attacks.

Molly found herself running constantly behind the artillery lines. She and Ben decided that it would be best if she served as a pitcher girl during the battle. She was responsible for running to and from a nearby spring to provide her assigned regiment with water. She was also responsible for providing water that the artillerymen would use to douse and cool down their cannons.

Molly quickly found herself drenched in sweat. The morning passed quickly, and now the army was stuck fighting in the humid midday heat of summer. As soon as the first signs of battle began, Molly knew she was in over her head, and she began to regret her decision to want to help the army during the battle. Working by the cannons was loud, and she kept choking on the smoke in the air, and her throat was dry from yelling to be heard over the sounds of battle.

Where she was, the soldiers were positioned on even ground. They were ordered to advance behind the Continental dragoons and infantry and provide aide and reinforcements as needed.

"Molly!"

"Pitcher!"

"Water!"

"Pitcher!"

"Molly, pitcher!"

She heard those words probably a thousand times within the first hour of the battle. Hearing that name made her think of Alex, but she pushed those thoughts aside. She knew she couldn't afford to become nostalgic; it might get her killed.

So she continued running back and forth, giving a man a drink here and there, and then hurrying over to whatever cannons needed her.

"Molly Pitcher!" one of the artillerymen shouted.

She forced the injured man on the ground to finish his drink quickly, promising she'd return. Then she rushed to the cannon. She put her bucket on the ground and the one soldier took the cannon ramrod and stirred it in the bucket, then he lifted it to clean the remaining gunpowder from the inside of the cannon barrel.

Molly took the rest of the water in the bucket and poured it over top of the cannon, to cool down the barrel of the gun. If the barrel was too hot, the next time a shot was being prepared, the gunpowder could ignite too quickly and result in a misfire.

"More water!" Another man ordered.

Molly nodded, breathlessly and rushed back to the spring. The thing she hated was, as their artillery line advanced, the spring became further and further away, and she was forced to run even more.

She returned within a few minutes and the men began the process on the second cannon. The man with the ramrod was desperately trying to prepare the cannon. Several of their gunners had been shot from stray bullets from the infantry battle in front of them. They were about a hundred feet away, but still close enough for the bullets to reach the.

Molly leaned over for a moment, hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. But then she screamed in horror. The man in front of her collapsed to the ground, a fresh bullet hole in his head, and his blood had splattered across Molly's face and neck.

She fell to the ground with the man, checking to see if he was still alive. He was dead. She turned, trying to drag him away from the cannon, but then she noticed that there was no soldier beside her to take his place dousing and reloading the cannon. She heard men shouting orders behind her, but the soldiers were just as disorganized as they had been earlier that day, when the news about General Lee came.

She turned back and looked towards the infantry battle. They were advancing with or without the cannons. In that instant, Molly acted on total impulse. She dragged the man's body away from the cannon enough so that she could take his place. She took the ramrod in her hands she picked up where he left off, dousing the barrel of the cannon, and then she turned and began packing in the next bundle of gunpowder and the cannonball. The entire time praying that it didn't misfire on her.

None of the men said anything in protest. Soon she found them shouting new orders at her. The cannon was even louder from her place besides the barrel now, and her ears were ringing, and suddenly everything felt very much like a dream; like it wasn't real. But she continued to work, and she didn't know how, but she found herself calling out for water and someone was bringing it to _her_ now.

She didn't know how long she did this. She was only aware of when she stopped. When she was reaching for the next bundle of powder, she had her feet planted quite far apart, to keep her balance. That's when she paused and yelped in surprise when she felt a burning sensation on her leg. She looked down and saw that her skirts were in tatters. She forgot all her modesty and lifted her skirts up. Her right calf appeared to be singed; The skin was pink and raw. She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion and looked over at the artilleryman beside her.

He was staring at her with an incredulous look on his face.

"What happened?" she slurred, her tiredness suddenly catching up with her.

"You really didn't notice?" the man laughed aloud. "My God, I doubt I'll ever see anything like that ever again in my life. A enemy cannonball went right between your legs."

She didn't know why, but she snorted in amusement, "Well I suppose I'm lucky it didn't pass a little higher."

The man burst into a fit of laughter, and they continued their work at the cannon.

* * *

The infantry battle ended not long after that. The rest of the artillery had finally repositioned on the surrounding hills and they were able to outman Clinton's forces. The men refused to surrender though, and instead they retreated west in the direction they came.

The artillery regiment that Molly was with had already begun to pack up their supplied. They were done fighting in this battle.

"You're bleeding."

Molly wasn't exactly sure who said it, but she looked down, and sure enough, she was. There was a small red circle staining her shirt on her upper should. She didn't know how long it had been there. But suddenly she realized that her entire body ached. There was a dull throbbing coming from her shoulder, and she once again became aware of a burning sensation on her leg. It was much more intense than before, and she felt like crying out in pain.

"Oh." She said breathily. "I suppose I am."

She felt herself falling, and then everything went black.

* * *

It took Ben five days after the battle to find Molly.

"Ben! I found her." It was Caleb who found her. She was in one of the medical tents. She had been injured during the battle, but she was still very much alive. The tent she was in was for the soldiers with more minor injuries.

As soon as Ben reached the infirmary, he noticed that it was strange that they had not separated Molly from the other men in the tent. She was towards the one corner of the tent, but she was busy chatting with the other injured soldiers.

"Molly!" he cried out.

She looked over, a lopsided grin forming on her face. "Hello!"

"You Tallmadge?" One of the nearby soldiers said.

Ben furrowed his eyebrows in confusion but nodded.

"Aye, the Sergeant here's told us all about you." Another man broke in.

"She's been wanting to escape for days, but the doc won't let her."

The men laughed bawdily, but Ben ignored them, taking a seat beside Molly on her cot.

"Are you alright?" he asked, trying to examine her. She looked to be physically alright. He could see that her shoulder was bandaged up, and that there were bandages on her right leg. "What happened?"

"I'm okay." She said, "The doctor says the bullet injury is minor. As for my leg, I got burned pretty bad. It'll probably scar."

"Burned?" he scoffed, "How did you get burned?" It didn't make any sense to him. She had been serving as a pitcher girl, after all.

"Have you heard about the woman during the battle? The one who manned the cannon?" one of the men butted into their conversation.

Molly swore at him to stay out of it, and the man chuckled in amusement.

It took Ben only a moment to realize. "That was _you_?" he demanded.

She smiled sheepishly and nodded.

"I thought that was only a rumor."

"I couldn't even tell you why I did it. I just did. And now all the men around here have decided to nickname me Sergeant Molly." She paused, lightly smirking, "I suppose I like it better than Molly Pitcher."

Ben stared at her dumbfounded. Of all the things that could have happened during a battle, he would never have guessed something like this happening. He felt pride welling up in his chest. He had to admit, he was impressed. He knew that Molly could be good under pressure, but he had no idea he was capable of _this_.

From the rumors Ben had heard, the woman's involvement manning the cannon had done absolutely nothing to sway the battle. It was the idea of it that was getting the soldiers so excited. The idea that a pitcher girl would be just as willing as a soldier to risk her life for the Continental Army.

"We have to tell Washington it was you." Ben decided.

"If you want."

"No, we _need_ to. If he has any doubts in his mind about your involvement in the ring, this will stop that forever."

* * *

**September 1778**

The last few months had been very good to Molly.

After the battle, Clinton's army had managed to retreat west and flee to New York. Meanwhile, Washington's army had returned to Middlebrook, and the officers had returned to their previous stations… well, all except General Lee. Lee's failure during the Battle of Monmouth had been the last straw for Washington. He ordered Lee court-martialed and discharged from further military service.

Molly found the entire thing very amusing because of the way Ben had secretly celebrated the downfall of General Lee. He only told Caleb and Molly about his true opinion. It didn't really matter much to her, but she supposed it was nice knowing that a more competent general could serve for the Continental Army.

Regardless, Molly was now more involved in the ring than ever. Since their (debatable) victory at Monmouth, they were receiving an influx of information from both Abe and Townsend.

Her actions at Monmouth and her position as Ben's fiancée how granted her nearly full access to all aspects of the camp. The soldiers who knew of her still called her Sergeant Molly, and she was glad that they did. Even Washington had begun requesting her presence during intelligence meetings. His orders now requested that Major and _Sergeant_ Tallmadge be present. Those meetings were rarely exciting, but Molly was thankful and grateful to be included, nonetheless.

It had been a quiet day. There were no new reports, so Molly was spending the day napping in Ben's tent. Ben was out on a scouting mission for the day, and Caleb had been gone for the past few days to visit the dead drop. Molly knew she could go see Anna, but she didn't want to. With everything that had happened with becoming Ben's aide-de-camp and then the battle and after the battle, Molly had hardly spoken to Anna over the past few months. She wanted to feel bad, but she honestly didn't. As far as she concerned, the only way to prevent conflict was to prevent interacting with Anna entirely.

She was in a deep sleep, but she found herself suddenly ripped from it.

"Moll! Moll, wake up!"

She groaned in surprise and rolled over so that she was looking up at Caleb. He was hovering over her.

"Hey, when did you get back?" she asked tiredly.

"Just now. Come on, get up, I need your help."

She pushed herself into a sitting position and Caleb thrust a piece of paper into her hands. She rubbed her eyes for a moment and then began to skim the letter. It was written in their code, so she began to mentally translate the words.

_Dear Mr. Culper,_

_I have challenging news. British counterfeiters are set to flood New York and elsewhere with forged Continental dollars. John André briefed 12 men, shovers, who leave midday Tuesday on a ship called the Glencairn traveling the Hudson north of Fort Montgomery to Con Hook. Where they go after that, I do not know. Aside from this, I note Major Andre has been lately down in the mouth. Woman troubles of some variety. Please tell 711 as fast as possible._

She was fully awake now. The note was from Townsend. She read through the note three more times, to ensure she was translating everything perfectly.

"Oh my gosh." She said, looking up at Caleb, "we need to get this to Washington."

* * *

It was that evening. Ben had returned from his scouting mission and now he, Molly, and Caleb were all in Washington's tent. They were all stood around various maps laid out on one of the desks. They had spent the last hour trying to figure out exactly where the shovers were going to land their boats along the coastline.

"According to Culper Jr.'s intelligence, the Glencairn has already made landfall and its shovers have dispersed with their poison dollars." Washington said. "We received this news too late." He decided.

"But, sir," Ben cut in, "we may still be able to find them through their contacts."

"But even he doesn't know where they're heading." Washington replied.

"Well, sir, we could start in Con Hook and look for their tracks." Caleb offered.

"Tracks?"

"Right."

"You're dismissed." Washington ordered.

"Sir, if you'll just allow…" Ben tried.

"Both of you." He added.

Ben and Caleb shot each other a look and they reluctantly exited the tent.

"You know, this is why people think you're a bit of an ass." Molly blurted.

"Mind your tongue, Ms. Strong."

Since Molly had begun working with Washington more often, she had come to understand why Ben was so opposed to him at one point. Washington was a very dry man when he wanted to be. He was pleasant most of the time, but during instances like these, he was cold and harsh. In many ways, he reminded Molly of her own father.

She rolled her eyes, "So what? You're going to give up? What's the point of intelligence if you dismiss it before actually attempting to utilize it?"

"No, the _point_ of intelligence is to receive it in a timely manner. Don't you agree?"

"Of course. That's why all of us in the chain did not bother with formalities. That's why we brought it directly to you."

Washington sighed and rubbed his temples, "Yes, and I appreciate your work, Molly. But let's face it, this time, the chain was not as efficient as it could have been. It is no one man's fault." He paused for a moment. "I know you don't want to hear me go on. You are dismissed, if you wish."

* * *

Once outside, Molly rushed to catch up with Ben and Caleb. They had already started walking away from the tent.

"Hey, wait for me!" she called. When she reached them, they were in the midst of a conversation.

"Now do you really think that you could track the shovers from Con Hook?" Ben was asking.

"No," Caleb admitted, "they'll likely take boats."

"Any other ideas?"

Caleb glanced at Molly for a moment then averted his gaze. He shook his head slightly.

"What?" she asked.

"I know how much you despise your sister-in-law, so forget it." Caleb replied.

She rolled her eyes, "I don't despise her."

"Well…" Ben began.

"Stop it!" she snapped, "What? Is your idea to consult Anna about this? Because at this point, I would not oppose it."

"Really?" Ben asked.

"Yes, I am still cross with Anna, alright? I'm probably always going to be, so you both need to get used to that." Molly added when she noticed Caleb beginning to grin. "Listen, this is the most urgent news we've received in a long time. We could use all the help we can get."

So, they went to see Anna. They explained their predicament and showed her Molly's sloppily written transcription of Townsend's letter. She reread the letter over and over again.

"If they've already landed, what'll you do?" Anna finally asked.

"We've as much clue as a horse's arse." Caleb said.

"Right, but we were hoping you might have a different perspective seeing as you've been in enemy territory longer than either of us." Ben added. It was a lie, but Molly was glad he was lying. He was trying to mend what was left of Molly and Anna's relationship.

"Well, I've been thinking about where the shovers would do their shoving." Anna replied, "If they have all this money to unload, they can't just spend it at some general store. They'd need someone who could take thousands in one go and spend it fast."

"Well, loyal Tories, right?" Ben asked, "I mean, they could spend it, but they'd have to do it over time."

"No. No, too slow." Caleb protested, "The British need a flood, not a trickle."

Anna waved her hand to get their attention again. "When Maarten DeJong bought Selah's tavern, he switched to buying cheap rum from privateers."

Molly had completely forgotten about that. Even after DeJong took over the tavern, Anna always did the books. The most Molly ever did was inventory.

"So," she continued, "Patriot privateers have access to our lands and waterways. They trade on the black market with anyone and might be greedy enough not to ask questions about who they're selling to or why."

They all stood there in disbelief. It made sense.

"Christ." Caleb stammered, "She's... she's got it, Ben. She got it." He wrapped an arm around Anna's shoulder and kissed her on the forehead, "You got it!" She laughed and then Caleb continued, "All right, last week I heard a couple of whipjackets who do business in Moodna Creek, right? They closed their shop. They stopped selling. They pulled all their tobacco off the London trade. They pulled all of it."

"Wait, how much did they have?" Molly asked.

"A shit ton, give or take."

"But the only reason they'd take their inventory off market is if they thought they had someone who could buy it all, right?" Ben asked.

"Right." Caleb laughed.

"One big sale." Anna said.

"Yeah."

"Well, do you know where their hideout is?"

"Yeah."

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Anna smiled, "Give 'em hell!"

They all looked at each other briefly, and then Ben and Caleb rushed off to find some men to take with them.

That left Molly and Anna. They stood there for a moment, saying nothing. Finally, Molly spoke up, "Listen. I know I may have been acting a bit harsh towards you."

"That's alright." Anna replied, "You have every right to be upset."

"No, don't lie to me to appease me. Don't do that." She paused, "I'm sorry."

Molly rarely apologized, and Anna knew that.

"I accept your apology."

"Can we try being friends again?"

"We were never friends, Molly."

"Sisters then?"

"Aye, I'd like that."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** In case anyone else is into military history, here's a map of how the battle went down. And here's also some artwork of Molly Pitcher. (I scowered the internet and I have no idea who the artist is.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Martha Washington reveal fell about as flat as I thought it might >.< Oh well...
> 
> As I've mentioned before, the timeline in the tv show becomes an utter nightmare to work with in Season 3.
> 
> In the show, they have the Battle of Monmouth take place in the Season 2 finale. However, they refer to the location only as "Kerr Field" (which was a field used during the battle), and the logistics of the battle are all wrong. However, the show was historically accurate by showing both Ben and Simcoe were present at that battle. So, that's fun to keep in mind...
> 
> However, in the subplots taking place in Setauket, it's still implied that Season 2 ends at the very beginning of the year 1778. So that doesn't make sense.
> 
> Anyway, here's some historical context for anyone who cares: The Battle of Monmouth was a semi-big deal because it was one of the Continental Army's first major victories in 1778. - As for the Charles Lee stuff, Lee was historically never a spy for the British. But his failure at the Battle of Monmouth (combined with similar failures at previous battles), led to him being court-martialed and dismissed from military service.
> 
> As for Molly, I've always had an interest in the legend of Molly Pitcher. She was a real person. There's some debate whether or not she was one woman or if there were multiple women who happened to do the same thing during different events. - Regardless, I decided to go with the story following Mary Ludwig Hays at the Battle of Monmouth. She was serving as a pitcher girl during one of the battles and her husband was an artilleryman in the Continental Army. Something happened and he ended up getting injured, so Mary took his place at the cannon. - We know she was a real person because after the war, she was commended by Washington for her bravery and she was even granted a military pension by Congress. Also, after the battle, a lot of soldiers heard about her and they gave her the nickname "Sergeant Molly". She had that nickname for the rest of her life.
> 
> Speaking of Molly: Would Washington have really allowed Molly to attend all these meetings and work as Ben's unofficial aide-de-camp?
> 
> Honestly, I think it's debatable. I mean, she's only been allowed into the meetings concerning intelligence, so possibly? Historically, no one in the actual spy ring was married/engaged, and, even if they were, their spouses probably wouldn't have been allowed to help directly in the ring. However, seeing as Molly was actually serving as a spy…All I know is that stranger things happened. Knowing how the historic Washington felt about Molly Pitcher, he may have allowed it.


	27. 3x06

**October 1778**

Molly turned the paper currency over in her hands. She continued to glance between the counterfeit and the original, but it was no use; they were identical. Washington sat across from her at the table, he mirrored her, also trying to identify any type of discrepancy.

They were in Washington’s tent. The General had requested that Molly be present when Ben delivered his report about what had happened at Moodna Creek. Washington’s slave, Billy, was there as well.

“There must be some way.” Washington finally said, breaking the silence. He scoffed, “I bet Martha could spot the telltale.”

“I don’t know, sir.” Molly shook her head in disbelief.

It had been some time since Martha had visited the camp, but Molly was uncertain whether the General’s wife would be able to be of much aide.

“Andre’s forger was very good.” Ben agreed, picking up another piece of the counterfeit. “The paper is ours. The printing is an exact duplicate. And there were twelve crews to disperse it… Well, eleven after we stopped Lieutenant Gamble at Moodna Creek.”

Ben and Caleb had already told Molly about how their mission had gone. By coincidence, Lieutenant Gamble had been the man overseeing the exchange. In the firefight that followed, Ben managed to kill him.

“Yes, and Andre managed to slip a considerable sum past our lines,” Washington paused as Billy draped a small towel over his shoulders. He then proceeded to dust white powder over the General’s hair; Washington was not fully ready when he called Ben and Molly to his tent. “Which is why we must now travel to Philadelphia.”

They both glanced up at him.

“Sir?”

“To... to Philadelphia?” Ben asked.

The General nodded, “And you're going with me. You as well, Ms. Strong.”

Before either of them could ask any questions, Billy spoke up, “Since there's no telling how many counterfeit bills are already in use, His Excellency's only remedy is to convince Congress to recall all bills. And he needs you to testify the same.”

Billy and Molly shot each other a look. They both knew the plan was flawed. Molly bit the inside of her cheek as she thought.

“Sir, you want Congress to declare bankruptcy?” Ben asked.

“To save itself, yes.”

Ben sighed as he placed the counterfeit bill back in the pile with the others, “I suppose it can't be helped.”

“But it could have been avoided.” Washington countered, “Culper Jr. obtained his intelligence nearly a week before we could act upon it.”

“But, sir, the route is secure. It's circuitous. It's as fast as we can make it. Culper Jr. passes his gains along to his father in Oyster Bay. And that same day, Culper Sr. picks it up and prepares it for the dead drop in Setauket.”

“And already it's too late… Why not send Lieutenant Brewster direct to Oyster Bay, eliminate the Setauket run, and reduce the transfer time by half?”

Ben paused for a moment, “But that would cut Culper out of the chain.”

Washington nodded, “And reduce the transfer time by half. Many mickles make a muckle.”

“The little things add up.” Billy added, noticing Ben’s confusion.

Molly found herself nodding. “He’s right.” She decided, but then she noticed the look Ben was giving her. “What? We’ve been saying for months that the ring is too slow. Even after Culper stopped transcribing the information, it doesn’t matter how quickly I can do it here. It’s the travel time is what’s slowing us down.”

“Precisely.” Washington said. He sounded proud.

“I don’t like it.” Ben muttered.

“You don’t have to like it. It doesn’t affect you. It affects Culper Sr.”

Washington noticed the tension forming between the Major and his fiancée, so he cut in, “You are both dismissed if you wish to be. And when you write to Culper Sr, please tell him that this is _my_ decision. And thank him for his service. He’s been greatly appreciated.”

* * *

When they were outside, Molly was hurrying to keep up with Ben, but he had already set his pace and was determined not to slow down.

“What was that?” he asked.

“What was what?”

“Do you have so little disregard for Abe? After all he’s done?”

Molly reached out and snagged his arm, forcing him to stop.

“Perhaps you have too much regard for him? After all, he was quite unsuccessful in keeping himself a secret from _me_. Do not forget that, _sir_.” She said mockingly.

He shook her off, “I don’t like it. It’s not fair to Abe.”

“This isn’t about what’s fair. And as for Abe, it’s nothing personal; it’s practical. He’ll understand that if we tell him.”

Ben shook his head again, still not fully convinced of this new arrangement.

“If you’re too proud to admit that Washing is right,” she added, “then let’s go talk to Caleb. Or Anna even.”

And that’s what they ended up doing.

* * *

They found Caleb and Anna at Anna’s cart.

“We have a problem.” Ben began, “The commander thinks that the ring is moving too slowly and, frankly, he's right.” Molly raised her eyebrows in surprise; she didn’t expect him to admit that. “Washington wants Culper out.” He addressed Caleb, “I need _you_ to make contact with Samuel Townsend. Let him know that from now on, he'll be dealing directly with you.”

Caleb was sitting in one of the rickety chairs next to Anna’s table. He rocked slowly forward and backward on the uneven legs.

“Right, that's going to be a problem.” Caleb replied.

“I know. It's not personal against Culper. It's a strategic decision.”

“Yeah, I know. I can't do it.”

“Caleb,” Ben sighed, “Molly and I need to leave for Philadelphia.”

“Ben, I can't go to Oyster Bay.”

“I can't debate with you.”

Caleb slowly rose to his feet, “Samuel Townsend cannot see my face.”

“What?” Molly asked.

Caleb sighed and looked around briefly.

“Come on, the lot of you.” He said, nodding for them to step closer to the cart.

“Oh, this can't be good.” Ben whispered under his breath.

They did so.

“Right,” Caleb began, “so at the beginning of the year, when I went to New York to get Abe out of prison, that stubborn little bastard refused to go, right? Said he still had his cover. Said he recruited a man in New York.”

“Townsend?” Anna clarified.

Caleb nodded, “Right. Except he hadn't. You see, Culper Jr. was still on the fence. So I met him at his old boardinghouse. I gave him the ink, I showed him how to use it. But he didn't trust me and he sure as shite didn't trust Abe.”

“Then why would he risk his life to warn us of the Hickey plot?” Ben asked, referring to a message they had received long before Molly had arrived at camp.

“Because,” Caleb went on, “after I left, we gave him a push. Abe knew the Quaker needed convincing, right?”

Molly always found herself forgetting that Culper Jr. was a Quaker. Oyster Bay was full of them. She didn’t know much about them, yet she was no afraid to admit that she was judgmental of them. They were pacifists and most of them didn’t believe in drinking alcohol. To someone like Molly, it seemed completely ridiculous.

Caleb continued, “So he had me scoop up some Connecticut lads, row out to Oyster Bay, play like we were Queen's Rangers, and ransack the old man's place. Only it got out of hand.” He became defensive when he noticed all three of their expressions change to shock, “It was Woody's idea! It wasn't mine. But it worked, right?”

Molly couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“Oh, my God.” Ben stepped away for a second, rubbing his temples.

“That was a shitty thing to do.” Molly hissed under her breath.

“The shopkeep joined the ring, didn't he?” Caleb asked.

“And if he finds out the truth, he'll quit.” Anna snapped.

Caleb shrugged, “Yeah. Well... yeah.”

Ben had rejoined them, “And this was Abe's idea? To do that to Townsend?” He scoffed, “Yeah, he's definitely out.”

“Come on. It ain't as bad as what we did to him. Hmm?” Caleb countered, “Throwing him into a cell. Putting the fear into him… Yeah, it's probably where he got the idea.”

Molly had no idea what they were talking about.

“Ben.” Anna spoke up.

They were ignoring her though as Ben and Caleb began to bicker.

“I can't go to Washington with this.”

“I agree.”

“Ben.”

“Oh, you agree, do you? That's wonderful. So what do you think we should do?”

“Ben, send me.” Anna blurted,

They were all staring at her now.

“What?” Ben asked.

“He hasn't seen my face.” Anna decided, “Send me.” A beat. “And if you have reservations about that, comfort yourself with the fact that _this man_ has left you no choice.”

Both Ben and Anna looked at Caleb. Molly had stopped taking part in the conversation. Anna’s comment gave her an idea, but she wasn’t exactly sure how to propose it to the group. Finally, she broke back into the conversation.

“No, _you_ can’t go.” Molly said. “It’s be too strange if you were to reappear on Long Island. You disappeared without an excuse, remember?” They were all looking at her, waiting for her to finish. “It has to be me.” Ben rolled his eyes, so she added, “Think about it! I’m the only one, out of all of us, that has any reason for returning to Long Island. Everyone still believes me to be in New York, aye?”

Anna nodded.

“So,” she continued, “ _I_ have the most reason for even associating with Culper Jr. and his father… Besides, I’m the one who’s been reading his reports. If I tell him that, perhaps he’ll have more reason to trust me. And then I can act as a permanent courier… Send me.”

“She’s right.” Caleb agreed.

Anna was nodding in agreement as well, “Aye, she is. It makes the most sense.”

They all turned to Ben, seeing as he was the last one to convince. She repeated herself.

“Send me.”

* * *

**November 1778**

“What about Philadelphia?”

“What about it?”

“We were supposed to go together.”

“If you really require company, take Anna. I’m sure she’d like to get out of camp. Besides, we’re all going to be in-laws at some point.”

They were in Ben’s tent and he was helping Molly pack for her mission. Molly was going to leave her borrowed clothing from the camp followers behind. Instead, she was borrowing one of Anna’s dresses, so that she could present herself more appropriately.

The mission was supposed to take only a few days. Caleb would transport Molly to Oyster Bay, a town neighboring Setauket. Thanksgiving was in just a few days, and Ben had received word that Culper Jr. would be returning home to visit his father for the holiday. Molly would go to home of Townsend’s father and explain to him and Culper Jr. the new arrangement.

However, by going to visits the Townsends, that meant that Molly could no longer go with Ben to Philadelphia, where Ben was to testify before Congress regarding the counterfeit bills. He was much more disappointed by the new arrangement than anything. She wanted to find it amusing, but she was honestly touched. She, too, missed doing mundane things together. She knew he was thinking about the balls and dinners he would be forced to attend with Washington. And without her there, he would have no one to gossip with.

She had convinced him to take Anna with him, but then Anna had refused the offer. Although she wanted to get out of camp, she also knew that Philadelphia meant that she could run into Selah. Anna still wasn’t ready to give up the ring and return to her marriage. Molly had stopped questioning her sister-in-law’s reasoning. _After all_ , Molly told herself, _Ben and I could elope at any time, and we still haven’t._

“Hey,” she said, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and pulling him closer. She pressed her lips against his and his hands found their usual place at her waist and at the back of her neck.

She pulled away, slightly breathless, “Hey, what could happen? I’ll be with Caleb.”

“True.” He said, kissing her again.

“Just remember, when you return from Philadelphia, I’ll be waiting here.”

Little did either of them know that this would be their last meeting for a long time.

* * *

**Thanksgiving Day**

They had been traveling for several days. Caleb had docked his whaleboat by a bay in the woods, and he and Molly had hiked the rest of the way into Oyster Bay. Oyster Bay was even smaller than Setauket. Molly had never known anyone who lived in the town, but she knew of it, and she had passed by it many times.

Caleb had been quiet since they arrived in Oyster Bay. She knew it was because he was embarrassed about what he had done to Townsend’s father. She followed behind him regardless, and he led the way. Finally, they made their way out of the woods and onto a property. The first thing Molly noticed was the burnt remains of a barn. It reminded her of Abe’s burnt farmhouse.

“You did this?” she found herself saying. She was still in disbelief that Caleb had agreed to do something like this.”

Caleb paused, “Look, we did what we needed to do, all right?”

They looked at each other for a moment. Then Molly nodded towards a row of hedges near the corner of the property.

“Wait for me over there.”

“Yes, ma'am.” He grinned despite everything, “I’ll play lookout.”

He hurried away to hide himself and Molly took a deep breath as she climbed the steps of the porch. She let out a sigh as she knocked on the door.

After a moment, she heard the door being unlatched and it swung open. An older man stood there, probably in his fifties or sixties. He had grey hair, and from his state of dress, Molly instantly knew this was the right man; He was a Quaker, dressed in his dark, modest clothing.

“Evening.” The man greeted.

His voice was wary, but Molly thought nothing of it. It was a holiday and it was late, and she was a stranger, after all.

“Are you Samuel Townsend?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“I’m a friend of your son's. Would you mind if I come in?” She knew she was visibly shivering.

“Yes, of course.” Samuel Townsend stepped aside. “I'm so sorry.”

She sniffled as she stepped inside the house, pleased to be warm once more.

“May I take your cloak?” he offered.

“No, thank you.” She paused, “Sir, my reason for visiting is… a bit strange….”

Before she could say more, movement caught her eye from across the room. She turned to see who it was, and there before her stood Abraham Woodhull.

She was neither pleased not disappointed to see him, but he appeared annoyed by her presence.

“It's all right. It's all right.” Samuel said quickly, trying to reassure her, “Abraham is also a friend of my son's. Of course. I wouldn't expect the two of you to know each other.”

“We do.” Abe said quickly.

She nodded hesitantly, “Aye, we do.”

She had no idea why he was there. She thought fleetingly that perhaps Abe was spending Thanksgiving with the Townsends, but then she decided that that was foolish. Why would Abe directly bring attention to himself and Culper Jr.?

She thought about Washington’s orders. Abe was supposed to hear of Washington’s decision over letter, but now she had no idea whether or not he had received the correspondence yet. She decided right then that she would be the one to tell him.

She turned back to Samuel. “Mr. Townsend, my name is Molly Strong, and I have come from General Washington's camp in Middlebrook.”

“And now you have to go.” Abe interrupted.

She shot him a glare. “No,” she snapped. She turned back to Samuel. “I've come with news.”

“Well, it can wait –”

“…Regarding your son’s espionage.”

Abe was beside her now, gripping her upper arm, “Will you give us a moment?” He asked Samuel, not waiting for a response.

He proceeded to drag Molly to one corner of the room. She quietly hissed in protest, but he did not loosen his grip, so she slapped him across the face.

“What are you doing?” she growled under her breath.

They silently fought for a moment, and then he grabbed hold of her hands and held them against his chest, she continued to fight against him.

“What are you doing? How did you even get here?” Abe said in a hushed voice.

“How do you think? Caleb brought me.” She suddenly remembered that no one was supposed to know about the barn’s burning, and she could see the anxiety sweeping over Abraham. “Don't worry, he's been ordered to stay out of sight. Your _secret's_ safe… Ben knows. And that’s _one_ of the reasons you're being cut out.” She didn’t know why she decided to tell him right then, but she did.

“Cut out?” he asked in disbelief. He loosened his grip on her, out of shock. “Cut me out?” He stammered. “I'm-I'm General Washington's man on Long Island... Now, look, if this has anything to do with what has happened between me and Anna…”

“It doesn’t, and the orders don’t come from Ben. They’re from Washington himself. Your reports are taking too long to reach him, and now the army’s suffered because of it. Washington is grateful for your service, but I’m afraid it’s come to an end for the present moment… You’re out.”

She pulled her hands free from him and left him standing there. Then she turned back to Samuel.

“Mr. Townsend, as I was saying, I have come directly from Washington's camp… and Mr. Woodhull can verify that. From now on, the General wishes your son’s letters to be transmitted by a more direct route. _I_ will be the new courier.”

Samuel scoffed, “You?” He looked in Abe’s direction, as if he was looking for an answer. “This is all very confusing.”

Abe shook his head, still partially in shock from the news, “It does seem so, doesn't it?”

“First Abraham, then Austin Roe, and now a woman?”

Molly froze. Her mind raced as she thought about what Samuel had just said.

“Who is _Austin Roe_?” she asked slowly.

She didn’t recognize that name from anywhere. There were no neighbors, no acquaintances, no relatives that had that name. She turned to look at Abe once more. He looked panicked, he looked annoyed that Samuel had said anything.

“Oh, Abraham, what have you done?” she asked, realizing that Abe was keeping far more secrets than he let on. He tried to defend himself, but she cut him off before he could get a word about. “How many _other_ men have you sent to play courier?”

“Only the one!” Abe stammered.

She scoffed, suddenly feeling vindicated. All of those emotions she had felt when she had first been reunited with Ben came flooding back.

“This is exactly what I told Ben months ago.” She said. “I told him that you were compromised, that you had _been_ compromised for God knows how long. And everyone was trying to make me feel like I was going mad!”

 _All those letters they sent Ben about MacInnis_ , she thought, _they were just excuses to discredit me. I was right!_

“Molly-”

“You’ve endangered all of us, and for what?”

She knew she was beginning to lose her temper, but she didn’t care.

Abe glanced at Samuel warily, “I don't even think we need to really be discussing this right now. There's other things on the table.”

“Like what?” she growled.

“Look, we don't have time to discuss this, all right? The Rangers are coming.”

“And I suppose our precious Captain Simcoe is with them?”

“Exactly!”

 _Simcoe_. Molly thought. She wanted to be concerned, but she wasn’t. After all, her disappearance had caused Simcoe _distress_. If anyone should be fearful of the Rangers, it was Abraham, not Molly. Although she had no wishes to interact with them again, she had always been clever. She had left Setauket still in their good graces.

“We need to leave, and we need to leave now.” He insisted.

They were both torn from their argument when they heard Samuel cry out from across the room. They turned and Molly’s expression fell as she looked towards the door. Molly couldn’t believe her eyes. There stood Robert Rogers, and he was holding a gun on Samuel Townsend.

Rogers looked different than when she had encountered him six months earlier. His clothes were still stained and baggy and his beard was disheveled, but his face was littered with new scars, and he was wearing a leather eyepatch now. It covered his left eye. He looked wild.

“Up against the wall.” Rogers ordered.

Molly swore aloud. She thought she had seen the last of him months ago. But apparently, not.

“What is going on here?” she demanded.

“Up, all of you.” Rogers said, ignoring her.

Abe sighed, “Do as he says.”

Samuel backed up slowly and pressed his back against the wall; Rogers had his gun trained on him. When Rogers noticed that Molly was stood unmoving, he crossed the room in a few steps and seized her. She fought against him for a moment but stopped when he pressed the barrel of his pistol under her chin and wrapped his arm around her chest, holding her arms in place.

“Ah, if it isn’t MacInnis’ slayer.” He chuckled, pressing his bearded face against her cheek.

She bared her teeth, but before she could try to fight him, the door burst open and there stood Caleb, pistol raised. He trained it on Rogers in an instant.

“Let her go.” Caleb growled.

“Shoot him, Caleb!” Molly ordered.

They ignored her though.

"Drop your iron.” Rogers countered.

“You drop yours.” Caleb replied.

“Caleb, do it. It's all right.”

Caleb was startled at the sound of Abe’s voice. He turned towards him.

“Abe?” Caleb asked, “What the... what are you doing here?”

“I know.” Abe said, stepping between the two men. “Stop it.”

Caleb looked like he wanted to belt Abe, and Molly wished he would.

“Get out of the way.” Caleb demanded.

“I know him!” Abe replied. “All right? It's all right.”

It was quiet for a moment as Caleb and Abe stood there, in a stalemate of their own.

“What in God's name is going on?” Samuel exclaimed. He was standing off to the corner, back still pressed against the wall. He looked terrified. “Of course, you know him.” He addressed Abe, “It's Austin Roe.”

Molly’s mouth was agape. All the pieces coming together for her. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. _Austin Roe was Robert Rogers_. Abe had used _Rogers_ as a courier for the spy ring. This entire time, she thought that the incident between Abe and Rogers had been a misunderstanding, but now she knew the truth. Abe had lied to all of them. He had endangered all of them. And she had never been angrier in her life.

“Mr. Rogers,” Molly spoke through gritted teeth, “Would you mind lending me your pistol? I’d like the honor of blowing Abraham Woodhull’s brains across the ceiling.”

Abe turned to look at her. She saw him swallow hard, a fearful look in his eyes.

She felt Rogers’ breath on her neck as he chuckled. “Quite the temper I see.”

“Mr. Townsend.” She glanced over at Samuel, “There is no Austin Roe. This man’s name is Robert Rogers.”

Abe cut into the conversation, “Rogers, we are on the same side here.”

“What?” Caleb demanded.

"But if you hurt her, you die.”

“You're in no position to threaten me.” Rogers replied, “I warned you not to follow me, boy.”

“What's he talking about, Abe?” Caleb asked.

“And who are you?” Samuel said.

Molly rolled her eyes at the amount of confusion in the room. She didn’t blame Samuel or Caleb. She knew that Abe was completely at fault. All of this was his doing.

“His name is Brewster,” Abe explained pointing out everyone. His voice was more tense, “his name is Rogers, but none of our names are going to mean shit past tonight once the Rangers show up. We all just need to leave.”

“We're not going anywhere.” Rogers said. “I came here to see Robert Townsend and I'm not leaving till I see Robert Townsend. And neither are any of you.”

“What do you want with my son?” Samuel asked.

“Same thing all these _children_ want... information.”

Abe tried to compose his voice, “Look, Simcoe is coming here.”

She felt Rogers shrug, “Well, Long Island's a very big place and we've got plenty of time.”

* * *

They were all seated around the dining table now. There were six chairs, and now four of them were full.

Rogers forced Molly to sit on his lap. He had one hand gripping her waist and the other kept his pistol pressed against her jaw. Across from her sat Abe, and beside him sat Caleb. Caleb still had his pistol drawn and aimed at Rogers. Despite her insistence, he refused to pull the trigger. Samuel sat at the head of the table. Molly knew from the expression on his face that he didn’t know what to make of all this.

She had not stopped glaring at Abe. She had never felt so angry in her life. She had never wanted to kill someone before. But the more she thought about it, the angrier she was becoming.

She gasped quietly as she felt Rogers pressed his nose against her neck. She was not scared of him for, in her mind, they were now on the same side. Both had a vendetta against Abraham. Despite the gun pressed to her, she now found him more of an annoyance than a threat.

“You know, I feel quite foolish. All this time, I never knew you were Benjamin Tallmadge’s girl.” Rogers said.

She continued to look at Abe, “You _told_ him?”

Abe averted her gaze, and she knew it was true. She turned from where she was being held against him, so that she could look at Rogers face-to-face. He was so close that their noses were almost touching. He looked amused by all of this.

“You know, it’s only fitting you killed my lad MacInnis.” Rogers chuckled. She wrinkled her nose, his breath smelled foul. “I kill your lover’s _entire_ regiment; you kill _one_ of my lads. Quite fitting, don’t you think?”

She yelped as she felt his hand moved to find a new place pressed against her stomach. He chuckled at her discomfort.

“Don’t touch her!” Caleb growled.

Molly finally turned her gaze away from Rogers.

“Caleb,” she said, “since you’re so insistent on _not_ shooting Mr. Rogers, won’t you do me a favor and shoot Abraham?”

He looked away, half rolling his eyes at her comment, “You know I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Stop it! You know I _won’t_ do that!”

She felt Rogers lip on her neck. She ignored him. Despite everything, she knew he was doing this to get a rise out of her. She glanced over at Samuel.

“Mr. Townsend, if you would be so kind, I would appreciate a drink.”

Samuel eyed Rogers and she finally felt the man nod beside her. Samuel hesitantly reached forward and poured her a drink from one of the pitchers on the table, then he slowly passed it over to her. She kept her hands where Rogers could see them, for he had ordered that all of them do so, then she lifted the glass to her lips. She nearly swore when she tasted the drink. It was water.

“Do you have any ale?” she asked, keeping the cup in her grip.

“Molly, they’re Quakers.” Abe said quietly.

She rolled her eyes. She knew that, but she was still hopeful. She could use a drink.

"Just our luck, they’re teetotalers too.” She mumbled, taking another drink.

As she took the cup away from her mouth, she felt Rogers’ pistol on her wrist. She looked at him and he gestured for her to tilt it so he could take a drink as well. She rolled her eyes and did so.

They sat there for close to half an hour, without speaking. That same pattern was repeated. Rogers would do something to make Molly squirm, Caleb would protest, and then Samuel would pour them some more water. And then Rogers went to nibbling on the various foods laid out on the table in front of him. He kept trying to offer Molly slices of turkey, but she refused. It went on and on, as they waited for Robert Townsend to arrive.

* * *

They all sat unmoving when they heard someone ride up on a horse outside. Then there was the sound of a single pair of boots on the porch, and then, finally, Robert Townsend arrived.

“Father?” he froze after seeing the ensemble.

They all turned to look at him, and Molly felt Rogers tighten his grip on her. She knew they were quite a sight to behold.

However, if he was surprised, he did a good job at hiding it, and he remained calm. Robert Townsend – Culper Jr. – was dressed in clothing similar to his father. He looked young, possibly about her age or maybe a couple of years older.

“Mr. Townsend, welcome. Sit down.” Rogers greeted.

“Do it, son.” Samuel said quietly.

Robert slowly stepped forward to the other head of the table, so that he would be facing his father. Before he took a seat, Rogers added, “Arms on the table.” Robert complied, and she noticed he was staring at her now. Although he said nothing, his eyes kept shifting from her face to the pistol held against her chin.

Rogers began, “Now then, Culper Jr., you recently penned a letter to our plucky farmer here concerning a Major John Andre and the young woman who recently turned his head. What's her name?”

At least that part of Abe’s lie had proven to be true. Rogers was just doing this because he wanted revenge against Andre.

“Who is this woman?” Robert asked calmly.

He was making eye contact with her now. Molly knew he was trying to read her expression, and she suddenly felt self-conscious by how irritated she must look. She found herself relaxing a bit.

“Oh, you haven't met her before, have you?” Rogers asked. “She's one of your merry band.”

“Let her go.” Robert’s voice was still calm and firm.

Rogers ignored his inquiries, “Maybe I haven't introduced myself.” She felt the gun disappear from her chin, and Rogers now stretched his arm so that his hand was not behind her head, and he was pointing the gun at Samuel. “My name is Robert Rogers and I don't aim to be here all night.”

“What will you do with the information?” Robert asked.

“I'm going to use it to get close to Andre.”

“You won't get close enough.” Abe cut in.

Molly and Rogers both whipped their attention back towards Abe, and they both exclaimed at the same time.

“Shut up, Abraham!” Molly hissed.

“I'm not talking to you!” Rogers snapped.

Abe didn’t shut up though, “He's too well guarded. And once they catch you and torture you, you'll give away this ring and I cannot let that happen.”

“And whose fault is that?” Molly snapped.

“I was leading the Queen's Rangers against the Iroquois before you even had hairs on your chin, boy.” Rogers said, “What can you do to me?”

“I can make you a promise. You let this lot do what we do best, and we'll get Andre for you. But if you do not put that gun down, you will not be walking out of this room alive. Now, we are all going to stand up and walk out of this room slowly. We’re-”

“You’re him.”

They all turned their attention to Samuel Townsend. He had spoken.

“What?” Abe and Caleb asked together.

“It's you.” Samuel continued. He was staring at Caleb now. “You're the Queen's Ranger.”

“Shite.” Caleb muttered.

Molly rolled her eyes so hard that, for a moment, she though they might get stuck in the back of her head.

“What?” Robert asked.

“No.” Caleb protested.

“Yes, you’re him.” Samuel nodded.

“No.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No.”

“Yes, you are!” Samuel raised his voice. “You attacked me, and you burned down my farm.”

Robert began looking between Caleb and Abraham, “What is this?”

“Here we go.” Rogers sighed.

Molly silently agreed with him.

“Woodhull, is this true?” Robert asked.

Abe looked down at the table for a second then nodded, “Yes, it's true. I told him to.”

“Why? To manipulate me. To trick me into undertaking this business.”

“Yeah.”

“You lied.”

“Yes, I lied. I had no other choice.” Abe blurted.

“You always have a choice.” Robert snapped.

“How would you know? You never chose, I chose for you. Because you couldn't do it yourself.”

A beat. The entire table was glaring at Abe now.

“Mr. Rogers.” Robert spoke up. “The woman's name is Philomena Cheer.” He rose to his feet, pacing slightly. “She is an actress. You will often find her at _Rivington's_ on Wall Street.”

“Ah, yes, the actress. I remember her.” Rogers mused. “I can use her.” He shifted Molly in his lap. His hand was back on her waist once again. “Well, it's been a great pleasure watching the amateur dramatics tonight, but if you don't mind, it's getting to be that hour of twilight.” Rogers gestured to Caleb. “So, you, unprime your firelock.”

By unprimed, Rogers wanted Caleb to release the hammer and dump the gunpowder out of the barrel of the gun. The round wouldn’t go off without powder.

“No chance.” Caleb replied.

“I have already got what I want, so I can kill anyone I like.” Rogers said calmly. Molly shivered as Rogers moved his hand from her waist to her face. He brushed his fingers over her cheek and neck. “But it just seems such a shame to waste a bullet on this, eh? So, blow your powder out your pan.”

Caleb inhaled sharply, but he finally complied. He blew his powder over the table and let his pistol fall to the table with a heavy _thud_.

“That's it.” Rogers replied. He and Molly looked at each other one last time, then he pushed her up and slid out from under her, leaving her sitting by herself in the chair. He rose to his feet.

“I used to like you, boy. I did.” Rogers was addressing Abe. “But I warned you not to cross me.”

_Me too_. Molly thought.

Her expression remained complacent as she watched Rogers raise his pistol and level it at Abe. She was still upset, and she wasn’t sure if this was what she wanted; but she felt nothing as she waited for the gunpowder to ignite. It never happened though.

In the same instant that Rogers raised his gun, Robert had produced a small single-shot pistol from his persons. He had it pressed against Rogers head. Everyone stared at Culper Jr. in shock. A Quaker who carried a gun; it was unheard of.

“Like you said, it'd be a shame to waste a bullet.” Robert said casually.

Rogers slowly lowered his arm, “An armed Quaker. Who'd have guessed it?” He laughed bitterly, then unprimed his gun just as Caleb had. He, too, let it fall to the table. He turned to look at Robert. “You going to kill me, _friend_?”

Molly noticed Robert look at his father. Samuel was looking away. He appeared disgusted by the whole ordeal.

“The spirit of Christ will never move us to war against any man with outward weapons.” Robert pointed towards the front door. “You leave this house.”

Rogers nodded and quickly fled from the house; He knew he had been bested. As soon as he was gone, Robert lowered his arm and placed his gun on the table. Before anyone could speak, Caleb rushed forward and grabbed Robert’s gun. He, Abe, and Molly all jumped from their seats and ran to the front door.

Rogers was already riding away on Robert’s horse, but he had only just begun. Caleb raised the gun and pulled the trigger. But there was no sound, no explosion of gunpowder. The gun was empty. Robert Townsend had been bluffing.

“Bollocks!” Caleb swore in frustration as they watched Rogers escape from the Townsend property. He turned back to look and Abe and Molly, “Bloody Quakers.”

With that Molly turned, and she punched Abe so hard in the jaw that he crumpled to the ground.

“Molly!” he exclaimed.

She wasn’t listening. She kicked him in the ribs. She intended to do it only once, but suddenly she found herself unable to stop. She cried out when she felt Caleb pulling her away. She went limp for a minute, and as soon as he loosened his grip, she pushed him away and punched him in the face as well, for good measure.

“Molly!” Caleb began swearing, and the two friends struggled for a moment, but Molly came out on top when she grabbed a fistful of his beard and began pulling. He cried out in pain and finally tapped out. She pushed him away.

“Will you two idiots look at what you’ve done?” she demanded. “You almost got the entire ring killed.”

That’s when she noticed that Samuel and Robert had joined them outside. They stood on the porch, and Molly knew from their expressions that they had seen everything. She wasn’t embarrassed though.

“I want you gone.”

Robert said it. He was back to his calm composure.

“We need you and you know it.” Abe tried to argue. He was back on his feet now. He wiped his bloodied nose on the back of his hand.

“Yes, and it wasn't personal, all right?” Caleb was still trying to defend himself.

“Robert, listen to me. You won't have to deal with me anymore, only Molly.”

Molly said nothing.

She had moved and she was now stood on the porch beside Samuel. Her knuckled throbbed, but she ignored it. She, too, was uncertain of what to make of all this. She had come here to ensure that they kept their ties with their man in New York. But now it appeared that they had lost Setauket and New York, and therefore the entire ring, in one fell swoop.

“You think that I would trust any of you?” Robert scoffed, “You can't even trust each other.”

“I agree.” Molly spoke up. And that was the truth. She had been thinking that same thing since she revealed her knowledge in the tavern cellar all those years ago. From the start, none of them had been honest with each other. It seemed that Molly was the only one. And now, it appeared that Robert had been in the same position all this time.

Before they could continue their bickering, they heard the sound of horses neighing and nickering in the distance. One thought ran through Molly mind, _the Rangers_.

“It's not over. It's not over.” Abe was still trying to argue.

“Come on, come on. Abe, come on. Woody, come on. Get over here.” Caleb was frantically trying to pull Abe away.

“Inside now.” Molly ordered quietly, taking control of the situation.

Robert and Samuel hurried back through the front door, and she began to follow behind them.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Abe asked.

Molly shot him another glare, “I’m cleaning up your mess.” She turned to Caleb, “I’m sorry,” her voice broke, and she could feel tears forming in her eyes, “Tell Benjamin I’m sorry.” With that, she hurried into the house and closed the door behind her.

Once inside, she undid her cape and hung it on a hook beside the door.

“What are you doing?” Samuel demanded, noticing that she had joined them in the dining room once more.

“I understand that you have no reason to trust me. But please, I can help.” She turned to look at Robert. He was eyeing her uncertainly, “The head of the Rangers, he’s a friend of mine… Please.”

She gasped for in that same moment the door burst open and the Queen’s Rangers began to pile in.

“You can relax, men. They're Quakers.”

She knew that voice. It was just like she predicted; in the doorway stood Captain John Graves Simcoe. He tried to eye the dishevelment of the room, but he found himself frozen as he looked at Molly.

“Ms. Strong?” he asked, taken aback.

“John!”

She ran over and threw her arms around him. Although she had thought of it in only a few seconds, she knew her plan would work.

“Thank God you’re here. I was so scared.” She could feel tears welling up in her eyes. She had never been able to make herself cry before, and, frankly, she was impressed she had managed it.

“Ms. Strong, what had happened here? What are you even doing here?” He placed a hand on her back uncertainly. She had truly caught him off-guard.

She sniffled, quickly trying to compose herself. “This is my friend from New York.” She waved towards Robert. “He invited me to dinner. Oh, it was awful, John, as soon as we arrived a man broke in.”

"He broke in and he demanded supplies.” Robert added.

Molly turned to look at him. She was trying to hide the surprise from her face.

“And left his weapon?” Simcoe asked, glancing at the gun Rogers had abandoned on the table. He sounded suspicious.

“He called that a gift to protect ourselves from any _unfriendly_ elements, he said.” Robert explained.

“Yes,” Samuel continued, “seems to think himself quite the jester. He had another weapon which he took with him, along with a bite of our turkey.”

Molly couldn’t believe it. Of all the people in the world, she would have never guessed that these two Quakers would prove to be such easy liars.

Simcoe perked up at this information. “His name? Did you get his name? We are looking for a man by the name of Culper.”

Molly tensed at that. Abraham really had mucked up everything.

Robert shook his head, “His name wasn't Culper. It was Rogers.”

“Aye, Robert Rogers, I believe.” Molly added.

She saw Simcoe’s expression darken, and she knew that they had said the right things.

She had not been to Setauket in nearly nine months. She had not seen Simcoe in nearly nine months. But whatever had happened on Long Island in her absence, she knew that there was some type of rivalry between Simcoe and Rogers. And she had no problem using that to her advantage.

* * *

Molly had followed the Rangers outside again when they left. Simcoe had ordered one of his men to remain at the Townsend property until Robert and Molly were to return to New York. He also assured them that that his Ranger would escort them back to the city.

“I must say, your sudden departure took me by surprise.” Simcoe said. “When Mrs. Woodhull told me the news, I must admit, I was taken aback.”

He and Molly were stood to the side, near the porch while his men prepared their horses once more.

“Aye, she was taken aback when I told her as well.” Molly smiled weakly. “Has there any word from Lieutenant MacInnis?” she added quickly, “I know that, he too, had gone missing right before my departure… In fact, it was his disappearance than frightened me so. I considered him a friend.”

“Unfortunately, we never found any sign of him or my other man Tanner. They proved themselves to be cowards and deserters.” He cleared his throat, “During our last meeting, I inquired as to your health. You told me you were not alright.”

She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. She didn’t know why he remembered their last meeting; she certainly didn’t.

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t remember.”

“Was MacInnis’ desertion the only thing that prompted your departure.”

She knew he was interrogating her now. _Perhaps he thinks MacInnis and I fled Setauket together._ She thought.

“Well, sir, with all the… excitement in Setauket… what with Major Hewlett’s kidnapping and all those mysterious deaths involving the Queen’s Rangers and King’s Army alike, well, frankly, I no longer felt safe. And then, of course, the tavern was damaged in that brawl…”

“Yes… I suppose that did happen around the same time.” A beat. “How are you now?”

“I am well. York City has proven to be a fine place to live.” That was a total lie. She hadn’t been to York City in years, and she had only every visited the place for a few days at a time.

“Good… Well, I am glad that Rogers did not make you his next victim.”

He smiled one of his fake smiles, and Molly found it difficult to not roll her eyes. She had forgotten how tedious it was to converse with him.

He left not long after that.

* * *

Simcoe’s man Sergeant Williams was the one assigned to escort Robert and Molly back to York City.

Robert was not to return until the next morning, so Samuel told Williams to make himself at home and help himself to what was left of their Thanksgiving feast. While the Ranger began to stuff himself, Samuel and Robert pulled Molly into a side room.

“Now what?” Robert asked. His tone was much more strained than before, and she could tell he was irritated.

“No need to thank me,” Molly said sarcastically, “I only saved all our skins.”

“We could’ve managed without your help.”

“You don’t know Captain Simcoe like I do. The man’s cruel and vicious.”

“Well, perhaps we could’ve figured that out for ourselves.”

They continued to glare at each other.

“Robert.” Samuel scolded quietly.

“What?” Robert snapped.

He was looking at his father now. Molly could tell that Samuel was still shaken up by the entire evening. And, by the way he looked at his son, she could tell that he was still uncomfortable from the way Robert had pulled that gun on Rogers. It was a very un-Quaker-like thing to do.

“Ms. Strong, I must admit, after witnessing your… display out front, I do fully trust you either.”

She scoffed, “What? Cause I roughed up my friends?”

“Exactly. Listen, I understand now that Mr. Woodhull was dishonest with us. And I appreciate you revealing this to us… all of us. However, I will not condone your actions.”

She wanted to laugh aloud. After everything that had happened, and all that Samuel seemed to be concerned about was the fact that she had gotten into a fistfight with Abe and Caleb.

“You are ridiculous.” She said.

“No, you are.” Robert said, “I know you had the best intentions of protecting us from the Queen’s Rangers. But now there is a Ranger in my father’s dining room. And now that Ranger is to escort the _both_ of us to York City. Are you even from there?”

“I believe she said she’s from Washington’s camp in Middlebrook.”

“Hm, yes, so, now you, like Mr. Woodhull, are endangering us all.”

Molly bit her lip. She knew her plan had been flawed, but all she had been thinking about was protecting the Townsends, and possibly convincing Robert to continue sending them information as Culper Jr.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered. “I am. But the truth is, it’s not as simple as you think. We need you, 723.” She called him by his codename. He tensed upon hearing it but said nothing.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. Once we reach the city, that will be the end of our interactions. And that will be the end of Culper Jr. And that is my final decision.”

He left his father and her in the side room and returned into the main house. Samuel looked at her briefly and then exited the room as well. So, she stood there alone, the entire time becoming more determined to do _one thing_. Abe was out, whether he liked it or now. And now Abe had gone and frightened Townsend so much that he wanted out as well.

 _It’s my turn_. She thought. _I have to convince him to remain in the ring. And, if he won’t do it, then I suppose I’ll just have to be our man in New York._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to defend my characterization for Molly and Abe in this chapter. I know that it may seem like Molly's being too mean to Abe. But the entire time I was rewatching episode 3x06, I just wanted to strangle Abe 😂 Season 3 Abe is a walking disaster: Change my mind...


	28. 3x07

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draughts = Checkers

It was the next morning, and they were riding for York City. Seeing as Molly had traveled on foot, that meant that she was now sharing a horse with Culper Jr. She was sitting in front, with his arms on either side of her, holding the reins. She noticed that his arms were particularly stiff; he was uncomfortable with the whole arrangement. She wondered why. Whenever she had been forced to share a horse with Ben or Caleb, they never acted rigid.

Meanwhile, Sergeant Williams was riding ahead of them, leading them down the main road. He was far enough away that Molly was sure he could not eavesdrop on them if they spoke. Seeing as Robert had refused to speak to her all morning, Molly finally broke the silence.

She turned her head to look back at him. “This is silly. We need to talk.”

“Why? I am content to ride into the city in silence.” He was staring ahead, refusing to meet her gaze.

“You wish for us to part ways when we reach the city?”

“Yes, what of it?”

“I need your help.” He was looking at her now, “The truth is, there is nothing for me in the city. I have no prospects, no job, no contacts. I have no one… If we are to part ways immediately, I will have no choice but to return to Setauket. And if I do so, then that inevitably means that I will encounter Simcoe... And then what do I say? Do I admit to lying? If I do that, it will only incriminate you.” She noticed his jaw tightened, but he said nothing still. “Please. We have to work together… at least only for a little while. It’s the only way you can protect yourself.”

She almost felt bad telling him all this. In a lot of ways, he reminded her of herself, so she hoped he would understand that this situation was not as simple as he cared to think. After a moment, he finally replied.

“What do you require?” His voice was just as rigid as his arms. He was having difficulty keeping his tone even.

“Just lodging. At least until I can write to a friend in Setauket. That would be a sufficient excuse for me to leave the city.”

“It will be done.”

“Thank you.” She let out a sigh of relief and relaxed slightly against him. She turned to look ahead once more, still keeping her voice down, “You know, I’m glad we finally got to meet in person. I wanted to commend you for your reports. I enjoy transcribing yours above all others.”

He didn’t reply, but she didn’t think anything of it.

* * *

Robert Townsend had been staring at Molly Strong for the entire duration of their trip, and he still didn’t know what to make of her.

After their brief exchanges, both last night and during their ride, she hadn’t initiated anymore. However, he wished she had been more talkative. Robert may be a bachelor still in his early thirties, but he was not oblivious to women. He did have three younger sisters after all; all were married, but he still communicated with them frequently.

When he had first arrived home and saw the ensemble before him at the dining table, his main concern was her, and the fact that she was being restrained with a gun pressed to her throat. The more the night went on, he began to realize that this woman was nothing like his sisters. When Robert Rogers fled from the house and the woman and Brewster and Woodhull all ran to confront him, he never expected to find her outside engaged in a fistfight with the two men she supposedly called allies. And then when the Rangers arrived, and she was the one to take charge… He honestly didn’t know what to make of it.

All he did know was that he was deciding to trust her. For some reason.

They reached the city by noon, and they rode straight for the stables where Robert had rented his horse from.

He knew he was being watched as he took his overnight bag out of the saddlebags. Molly was hovering beside him, and he was fine with that, but the problem was, so was the Ranger.

Robert cleared his throat as he turned, and he spoke up, “We can manage from here, Mr. Williams.”

The Ranger laughed aloud, “Can’t let you do that, Mr. Townsend. Captain Simcoe ordered me to see you lot to your tavern. You lead the way.”

He tightened his grip on the straps of his bag, but he remained unphased. “Of course.” He feigned a smiled, keeping his lips closed. “Come along, Ms. Strong.”

As he began to walk out of the stables and lead their small party through the streets of the city, he was surprised when the woman reached out and looped her arm through his.

“Ma’am?” he asked quietly, not sure if this was code for something; if they were in danger.

“Is this alright?” she whispered. “Sorry. Truth is, I’m scared to get lost. I haven’t been to the city in years.”

“No, it’s alright.”

Even now, he wasn’t sure what the purpose of her being here was. She was so confident back in Oyster Bay, and now this. He continued to lead her and the Ranger through the city, to the place he had claimed as a safe haven for so long.

* * *

Rivington’s Coffeehouse was located only a few blocks from New York harbor. The location served as a tavern on the main floor and the location where the newspaper _the Royal Gazette_ was published. Both the printing presses and spare barrels of ale were kept in the cellar.

The front was co-owned by Culper Jr. and a loyalist by the name of James Rivington. Rivington was a journalist, well-known for his loyalty to the crown. During the very beginning of the war, in 1775, Rivington ran another loyalist newspaper in New York. When the Sons of Liberty were formed and began to riot against the British, they burned and looted Rivington’s original shop. Rivington and his family briefly fled to England. When the British occupied New York and the Sons of Liberty were subdued, Rivington’s family remained in England while he returned to New York to resume his journalism and begin a new newspaper.

Rivington’s history of loyalty, as well as his likeable personality, made his coffeehouse a popular location for redcoat officers to convene. Molly knew that much from what Ben had told her about Culper Jr.

It was strange to see it in person though. In fact, it was strange for her to see the entire city. Molly had not been to York City in many years, for she never had a purpose for going into the city. The last time she had been here was with her father, but that was nearly a decade ago.

“Would you care for a drink, Mr. Williams?” Robert asked they began to climb the steps to the establishment.

“Not a bad idea, sir.” He followed them into the tavern.

As soon as they entered the tavern, Molly was surprised by how many officers she saw. She had heard that officers frequented Rivington’s, but she never would’ve guessed that so many of them would be there at all times of the day. After all, it was not yet the afternoon.

“Mr. Townsend, welcome home!” a man boomed from behind the bar.

He was a large man, clearly middle-aged. He wore a white wig on his head for some reason, and Molly guessed it must be considered fashionable. The man stepped out from behind it and patted Robert on the back.

That’s when he eyed his companions. “And who is this? Has our very own Mr. Townsend found himself a lady?” He chuckled loudly at his own joke and went to greet Molly.

She bowed her head slightly, embarrassed by the attention. She was just now realizing how flawed her decision may have been. The man took her hand and kissed it.

“A pleasure, Ms. …?”

“Strong.” She smiled, “Molly Strong.” She decided that it could be very dangerous to alleviate from the truth. “It’s lovely to meet you, Mr. …?

“Rivington. James Rivington.”

Yes. This was the man she had learned about.

“Ms. Strong is a family acquaintance.” Robert explained casually, not missing a beat. Molly was still finding herself impressed by how easily he could lie. “She has recently relocated to New York. I already told her that she could stay here until proper lodgings could be found.”

“Aye, I hope that won't be a problem.” She added quickly.

“Of course not. Any friend of Robbie's is a friend of mine. Especially a lady friend... Tell me, Ms. Strong, where are you currently employed?”

“I'm afraid, I do not yet have an employer.”

She could feel her tone becoming more formal, and she became away that her throat was tight, with nervousness. It was the same feeling she always had when speaking to people back home, when she used to be back home. She hated the feeling, and she was disappointed at how easily she had managed to conjure it back again.

“What did you do back in…?”

“Setauket, sir. I was a barmaid.”

Rivington perked up at that, “Why, certainly Robert told you about this coffeehouse. Isn't that right, Mr. Townsend?”

“Yes.” Robert sounded bored.

“We could always do with the extra help.”

“Mr. Rivington,” Robert spoke up, “we are not hiring.”

“Nonsense, Robbie.”

“Mr. Rivington –”

“No, sir, I could not possibly intrude.” Molly tried to cut in.

“Nonsense. What's wrong with her working here?” Rivington asked, “I'm sure the officers would have no complaints upon seeing a woman serving them drinks. Wouldn't you say so, Robert?”

He paused, “I suppose… But of course, the decision is not mine, what does Ms. Strong think of it?”

They were looking at her now.

“I could not possibly impede on your generosity. But perhaps, I could accept the offer... only until I find employment elsewhere. After all, perhaps it would be nice to spend the New Year with a friend.”

Rivington seemed satisfied with the proposal, “So, it's settled then. Stay here as long as you need.”

“I promise you, sir. Both of you.” She was looking at Robert now. She could tell he was troubled with this arrangement, “I will only be here at most until the New Year.”

And she meant it. As soon as the New Year came, she told herself that she would escape the city and go back to Washington’s camp. She would only be there one month. Just one month.

* * *

As soon as Robert showed her to a spare bedroom, she retrieved parchment and some ink and began scrawling away. She first wrote to Maarten DeJong in Setauket, requesting that he send her another copy of her references; she was in need of a job after all. Then she wrote a letter to Mary Woodhull.

She felt guilty for asking her for help. After all, the previous night, she had been perfectly alright with the idea of Abraham being killed. The more she thought about it, the more embarrassed she became. She was not embarrassed of her decision to be mad at Abe; she was embarrassed that Culper Jr. and his father had seen her lose her temper like that.

It was different for them. They didn’t know her. Her outburst was no more expected than her sudden appearance at Samuel Townsend’s house.

Once she was finished with the letters, she did not send them immediately. She waited until later that day, then she went next door, where Robert’s bedroom was. He answered his door after the first knock. He was dressed just as properly as he always was. It didn’t appear he had relaxed at all after returning to the Coffeehouse.

“I need you to mail these for me.” She said, holding out the letters.

He hesitantly accepted them.

“Does he suspect?” she whispered. That had been on her mind all afternoon. Did Rivington suspect? He had not commented on it, but the fact was, Molly supposedly relocated to the city, but she lacked luggage. Molly had already begun praying that Rivington wouldn’t notice if she wore the same dress multiple days in a row. The one was she wearing was all she had.

“I don’t believe so. He is a self-obsessed man.”

“Good.”

They both stood there awkwardly. It was a silence, but it was not an uncomfortable silence.

“I, um, I didn’t know you were employed at a tavern.” He began.

“Oh. Aye. That was a long time ago.”

A beat.

She swallowed uncomfortably, “Listen. I know this sounds strange…” She stopped for a second, still embarrassed for asking this of him. “Would it be alright if I borrowed some money?”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Listen, I know I’m asking a lot. You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about me, in fact. Well, the truth is, a long time ago, my brother was arrested for being a rebel. And the local magistrate in our town passed an attainder. So… Well, you see, I have nothing.”

“Oh… I see… Yes, I suppose you might be in need of some clothes.” He added. His words were lighthearted, but he still sounded monotone.

“Thank you.”

Another beat.

“Well, I suppose we should say goodnight. Mr. Rivington expects you to work tomorrow.”

“Aye, he told me.”

“Good night, Ms. Strong.”

“Good night, Mr. Townsend.”

* * *

**Middlebrook, NJ**

“You let her go?”

Ben was on his feet now, still having a hard time comprehending what he just heard.

Caleb had finally returned from the mission to visit the Townsends… but he had returned without Molly.

“I want you to tell me again, exactly what she said.”

“She said to tell you she was sorry.”

Ben still couldn’t believe what he was hearing. She was gone. She had stayed behind to aide the Townsends. Caleb didn’t blame him for being in distress. He, too, was having a hard time coming to terms with what happened.

After she told him to take Abe and go, he had hidden himself in the woods, trying to keep Abe quiet as they did so. Abe was still furious about hearing that he was out, and he was even more furious at Molly’s violent reaction to everything. But Caleb ignored his friend. He had to make sure her plan would work. Although he trusted her and her discretion, he did not trust the Rangers. He had to make sure she was safe.

And it did work, almost _too_ well. When she walked out of the house to have a conversation with Simcoe, he overheard everything. The entire exchange made him squirm. Molly seemed confident enough, but there was something about Simcoe’s manner. Something insincere that made Caleb fear for the worst. But those fears quickly dissolved when Simcoe left with his men.

If that Ranger hadn’t been left behind, Caleb knew that Molly would’ve come outside to meet him, and they would’ve returned to camp together. But now she was trapped, and she was forced to go into the city with Culper Jr.

“She’s lost her mind.” Abe hissed under his breath. “She’s not been right since she killed that Ranger.”

Caleb scowled at his friend.

“Will you give it a rest, Woody?”

“You heard her in there. She _volunteered_ to kill me.”

“She’s always done that.”

Abe scoffed, “And what’s this about me being out, huh? If she goes into the city with Townsend, someone’s going to figure out she’s not been there this last year. They’re going to figure out that Mary and I lied to everyone.”

Caleb swore under his breath. He wanted to support Molly, but he knew Abe was right. Abe and Mary had been covering for her for months. Her plan to help Townsend had seemed brave, but it was very flawed.

And that’s when Caleb knew what he needed to do. He had to defy Washington’s orders. If they cut Abe out, they would lose a way of contacting Molly in the city.

“You have to go into the city and get her!” Ben finally decided.

Caleb laughed aloud, “And why would I do that? I do that, and the both of us’ll get killed.” Ben tried to interject, but Caleb beat him to it. “Listen, Molly is smarter than that. She only stayed behind to ensure that the Townsends were safe. We know her, she won’t stay in the city very long. I guarantee she’s already planning on getting back home, and then she’ll stay with Woody for a few days, and then I’ll go pick her up from the dead drop.”

Ben was shaking his head, still not convinced. “I’m writing to her.”

“And how are we going to get it to her, huh? Come on, Tallboy, don’t you trust her?”

“Of course I do. But I don’t trust New York.” When he saw the expression on Caleb’s face, he added, “I mean it. It was different when she was back home. She had connections there. But not in the city. Caleb, all she’s going to have is Townsend… and that’s _if_ he’s kind enough to keep up this ruse. She’ll need further instruction.”

Caleb took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. He knew where this was going. He was going to have to get back to Setauket immediately. Get to the dead drop to deliver Ben’s letter. They’d have to have Mary send it to her.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Caleb sighed, “Get to writing.”

* * *

**New York City, NY**

It had been a week since Molly had begun working at Rivington’s Coffeehouse. And she had decided that she no longer liked working in taverns.

It had been a long time since she’d last served people drinks. The coffeehouse was much more formal than her brother’s tavern, so she didn’t need to worry about the patrons singing drinking songs into the night, and she didn’t need to worry about cleaning vomit off the floors. But she wasn’t content with her work like before.

Rivington had been correct. The officers did appear to enjoy her presence. In that first week, plenty had flirted with her, and several of them had even invited her to plays or dinners. And that was the part that made her begin to dislike her new position. The truth was, Molly was not used to the attention. The entire time she worked at Selah’s tavern, only two men had ever paid her any attention. She preferred it that way. It made things simpler. In fact, she could count on one hand the number of men who had openly flirted with her; and among those men were Ben, Baker and Alex.

Molly never considered herself to be unattractive, but growing up, looks hadn’t mattered. She didn’t have to be attractive to play with friends at the beach and looks didn’t matter when she and Caleb used to go adventuring in the woods.

Sure, Ben had told her she was pretty enough times, and she believed him. But it didn’t change the fact that she hadn’t been told that very often. Before Ben, the only other boy that ever paid her any attention was Abraham’s older brother, Thomas. And even then, she never really liked Thomas; he was too much like his father.

Still. She knew it was significant she was being invited to different events. She could only imagine the information she could overhear. _Maybe my plan isn’t crazy?_ She told herself. _If Robert truly wants out, maybe I could be our man in New York._ But still, she was hesitant to trust any of these men.

Maybe it would be different, she wondered, if the men who were flirting with her were closer to her age. But they weren’t. Most of the officers were old enough to be her father, and others were far younger than her. So the entire experience was more jarring than flattering.

She was also grateful that she had Robert as an excuse to avoid the invitations. She had found herself wondering what might happen if she did stay in the city, and when she did eventually find employment elsewhere. She would lose her excuse. Regardless though, the work was familiar, and therefore easy, so she was grateful for that too.

“Ms. Strong. This just came for you.” Robert walked up to the bar with a bundle of papers and a package in his hands. He handed her a letter and the package.

She wiped her hands on her apron and snatched them from him, opening them right there. He took over for her wiping down the bar.

The first letter was from DeJong. It was a simple note inquiring about her health along with a copy of her references. She expected to receive no more from him. The package was from Mary. There was a note attached to the front of it. It read:

_Molly,_

_Not safe to come home. Simcoe still searching for rebels throughout town. Robeson is dead. Enclosed I have sent you a couple of your dresses as well as some money to help you return to your fiancé. Abraham explained what happened._

_With love,_ _Mary_

She didn’t know how to feel about the news of Robeson’s death. Although, he had been the one responsible for her brother’s arrest, this sudden news made her feel no more vindicated than before. All the news did was remind her of how much had changed in Setauket; she missed home.

She scanned through the note multiple times. That wasn’t the answer she was expecting. In fact, it was the complete opposite answer. If it wasn’t safe for her to return to Setauket, then she couldn’t find an excuse to leave the city, and she couldn’t get to the dead drop, and that meant there was no way for her to make it back to the Continental Army.

“Did you receive the answer you were hoping for?” Robert asked beside her.

She wordlessly handed him the note. She felt a lump forming in her throat and she was blinking to stop the tears from welling in her eyes. _I’m such an idiot_ , she thought, _Robert and his father could’ve handled themselves. What was I thinking? There was no need to speak with Simcoe._

She already knew what her reasoning at the time was. She had only done so out of spite because she was angry with Abe. So, she had martyred herself. But now there were consequences to that decision, and she didn’t want to face them.

“So, what does this mean?” Robert asked after a few moments,

She shook her head slightly, still trying to hide her disappointment, “It means I was wrong. I’m stuck here.”

* * *

Robert didn’t like the sound of that.

For the last week, he had been just as on edge as during the weeks when Abraham used to visit his inn. But that was different. When Abe visited the inn, he was only ever there for a week. As for Molly, he had no idea how long she would be with them. She said until New Year’s. But now that plan had proven to fall through.

Although it had only been a week, Robert was glad that Molly had not brought up his involvement with Washington’s spy ring. At the same time, her silence worried him. He felt responsible for her, in a way. Almost in the same way he felt responsible for a cousin. Although he knew nothing about her, he kept thinking about what she had said during their trip into the city.

_“You know, I’m glad we finally got to meet in person. I wanted to commend you for your reports. I enjoy transcribing yours above all others.”_

She hadn’t even acknowledged her own involvement in Washington’s spy ring. But she had been involved, and Robert couldn’t help but wonder how and why. He wanted to ask her about it.

That evening, when she was downstairs closing the tavern for the evening, it was nearly midnight. He went down to help ensure the last patrons left the coffeehouse, then he locked the front door and started helping her wipe down the rest of the tables. He eyed her and noticed that her eyebrows were furrowed together. It wasn’t because she was tired; she looked troubled. They worked in silence for several minutes.

“Ms. Strong, may I offer you a drink?” He had moved to wipe down the bar, but he hadn’t put any of the alcohol away yet.

She didn’t hesitate to accept his offer. He poured her a glass of whiskey and he poured himself a glass of water. Then he brought the cups over to the nearest table she had just cleaned. They took a seat across from each other.

She drained her glass in a few gulps, and he felt a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Perhaps you’d prefer to drink straight from the bottle?” he joked.

“Not a bad idea.”

His smile faded when he realized she was being serious. They sat there for a moment; she watched him as he sipped from his glass of water.

“You said you transcribed my reports.” He finally decided to inquire. He kept his voice low despite the fact they were the only two in the main room.

“Aye.”

“May I ask why that was one of your responsibilities.” He watched as her eyebrows knitted together in confusion, so he added, “Ma’am, I know that you are aware of my background and position. But, you see, I know nothing about you. I never even knew women were allowed to work for Washington until I met you.”

She put her elbows on the table, leaning forward in her seat.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” He chewed on her lip for a second. “I am engaged to Washington’s head of intelligence.” She was speaking barely above a whisper. “I was in Setauket, working briefly as a spy with Abraham.” A beat. “I ended up running away. I’ve been living as a camp follower with the Continental Army for nearly a year. When I did so, I became involved in the paperwork side of the ring… through my fiancé, of course. Visiting your father’s house was the first time I’ve been outside of the camp, and –”

“O-oh, what do we have here?!”

In that millisecond, Robert realized how close both he and Molly were leaning towards each other. They both pushed away so that they were sitting back in their respective seats, and they turned to watch Rivington as he walked into the main room.

The older man chuckled, “Do my eyes deceive me? Or was I correct when I said that you brought home a lady?” He was teasing him.

Robert noticed Molly roll her eyes.

“Ms. Strong and I were just about to begin a game of draughts.” He lied. “Would you care to join us?” Robert knew he was a good liar. Sometimes, he lied to well, he frightened himself. Robert rose to his feet and hurried over to the bar as well, where he kept the draughts board. On slow nights, he would play the game with patrons.

Rivington continued to chuckle in his booming voice as he shuffled behind the bar. He began pouring himself a drink. “Oh no. I just came down for a nightcap.” He finished his drink quickly and they said their goodnights.

Robert returned to Molly with the gameboard and the remainder of that bottle of whiskey. He began to set up the game pieces between them. They were once again alone in the tavern, but he still kept his voice low, just in case.

“You’ll get used to him.”

She smiled.

“Are you familiar with the game?”

“Aye, but I’m afraid I’m not a very good player.”

In reality, Molly was uncertain if she would be considered a good or poor player. Ben loved to play draughts, and he was one of the best players Molly knew of. Caleb had been trying to beat Ben at it for years, but he had only ever bested him a handful of times.

Robert shrugged, “That’s fine. I’m not very good myself.” He was lying again.

They continued to exchange pleasantries as they played; Robert asked her more questions about her involvement in the ring and about her life in Setauket; Molly chose to avoid the subject of the ring and ask him about his family and his work.

The game was over almost as quickly as it started. Molly glanced between Robert and her final piece on the gameboard.

“You liar. _Not very good_?” she mocked.

Robert smiled in spite of himself, “I didn’t lie. It just happens you’re an even poorer player than I expected.”

She gasped in mock surprise, pleased with how lighthearted their conversation had become.

“Reset the board.” She decided.

He complied, and they played far later into the night than expected.

* * *

Draughts became a new pastime for the both of them. They worked together most days, so in the morning, they would begin a new game, and then spend the remainder of the day making their next moves. Molly preferred the dragged-out games because that way she would only lose one game per day instead of multiple ones.

She knew about strategy, and she liked to think she was an alright strategist when it came to some subjects, but when it came to draughts, she knew she was hopeless. When she finally found a place to make a move, Robert almost always came back and found a way to steal multiple pieces from her.

As for what strategies she did excel at, Molly had been using these games as a way to become more intimate with Robert himself. After their initial meeting, she decided that she and Robert were very much alike. He would say things or do things that reminded Molly of how she used to behave when she was working at her brother’s tavern. She knew that she was not the same person she was back then, but she still remembered it well.

So, Molly decided that the best way to get to know Robert was to act as if she was getting to know her old self. The more they played, the stranger topics they discussed, and she could tell that he was becoming more comfortable speaking with her.

It was a week before Christmas. Molly was still disappointed; she hadn’t heard anymore from Mary, and she hadn’t received any word from Ben or Caleb either. That disappointed her more than anything. If she hadn’t have stayed behind with the Townsends, she knew she could be back at the camp right now. And she knew that she could be spending Christmas with Ben and Caleb; it would be the first time they’d celebrated the holiday together since Christmas of 1774. But now, all those thoughts were just that: thoughts.

Truth be told, Molly was beginning to panic. She was hoping that Robert would bring up the subject of the ring first; she hoped he might at least acknowledge his involvement, or even the status of his involvement. He never did though. When she said she wanted to be gone by the New Year, she meant it. So, that evening, she finally confronted him about it.

It had been a slow evening at the coffeehouse, so slow, in fact, that there were only two customers, and both men were eating together on the opposite side of the room. Molly and Robert were both at a table, playing (yet another) game of draughts. Molly had already lost all of today’s games, and she knew she was about to lose another; so, she did not even hesitate to whisper.

“May I inquire as to where you stand, Mr. Culper?”

She knew from the way he stiffened that she had taken him aback.

“I don’t possibly know what you mean.” He lied.

“Come now, 723, we’ve avoided the subject long enough. I appreciate your kindness, but I did not come to the city seeking your generosity. Now, where do we stand?” With that, she swiftly captured one of his draught pieces.

She glanced up, grinning at her good luck.

Robert was looking at the gameboard, refusing to look her in the eye. “As I said on Thanksgiving,” it was his turn, and he captured two of her pieces, “I am out.”

“Well, _Junior_ , as I said on Thanksgiving, if you’re out, I’m in.

“Ms. Strong–”

“Mr. Culper.”

“Keep your voice down.”

“My voice is not the one that is rising.”

She was right; Robert didn’t realize until then that he was the one getting louder.

“Ms. Strong, please, educate me as to why you are so willing to risk your life for the rebels.”

She shrugged, “My reason is simple. It’s because I have the opportunity.”

He scoffed, “ _Opportunity_.”

“What’s wrong with what I said?”

“Ms. Strong, I admit, I am still in shock that your fiancé is so willing to sacrifice you for your cause.”

“He is doing no such thing.” She snapped, “I volunteered.”

He scoffed again in response.

“I know we each have our own histories with Abraham,” She continued, “but, I’m curious. Why did it take an act of violence to convince a Quaker to do the right thing?”

She had been thinking about how this conversation might go for a long time. Molly knew she had a bad temper, but she always forgot her temper when it came to things like debates. She didn’t need foul language or fists to make her point here; she needed levelheadedness. And she was satisfied by how she was presenting her case so far.

Robert tensed. “And what _right_ _thing_ are you referring to?”

Molly leaned forward in her seat, pushing herself closer to him. Then through clenched teeth she said, “Do not play the fool. It does not become you.” A beat. “Why did it take an act of violence to convince a Quaker to support the rebels?

Or are you quite content to live in fear? To be forced to quarter soldiers in your home. Men who are either gentlemen, or men who are just as willing to rape the women of the house at first chance. To be forced to pay endless taxes to a King who, as far as I know, has never set foot in the colonies.

And do not tell me you are content with this because we are British citizens. I am no more British than the rum I’m drinking; rum, whose ingredients come from the Caribbean and the Southern colonies; rum that is made _into rum_ in the North, _here_.”

She leaned back in her chair. Their game was all but forgotten now.

“Are you quite finished?” he asked calmly.

“You didn’t answer the question. Are you content with those terms?”

He hesitated to respond.

“Tell me, is it the _idea_ of it that dissuades you?” She took a drink. “Is it only because spying is considered a cowardly profession? Because, I have found, once you come to terms with that, it no longer seems quite so cowardly… Information saves lives.”

“Yes, and what of the men who suffer from that information?”

“Depends which side it is.”

“Quakers do not choose sides.”

“Oh yes, I’m aware of some of the aspects of your religion. But I’m not here to debate theology with you.”

“Then let’s allow our conversation to end here. You already have my answer.”

Molly bit the inside of her cheek, disappointed that their conversation would end with no more progress made than before.

So, she tried in one last ditch effort, to persuade him, “When I was a child, me and my friend, Caleb Brewster… you remember him… we read somewhere that indecision is far worse than a poor decision. And we spent our entire childhood making as many good and poor decisions as we possibly could.”

Robert rolled his eyes, “What is the point of this?”

“Please, Robert, all I am asking is that you delay your decision. Contemplate, really think about what it means to be neutral in this conflict; to be indecisive.”

They both looked down at the board again, and Molly watched as Robert captured the last of her pieces. He wordlessly won the game, then he rose from his chair, and he left her sitting at the table alone.

* * *

**December 23, 1778**

“Would you like to attend a dinner with me?”

Molly blinked, not quite sure if she had heard the offer correctly.

“A dinner?” she asked.

“A Christmas dinner. All the officers will be there; it’s not like you won’t know anyone.”

She was speaking to Captain Edward Jennings. He was quite a bit younger than her, and his officers’ pay meant he had more money than sense, and he was constantly spending it at Rivington’s Coffeehouse.

Molly would not say she was necessarily fond of him. He flirted with her plenty, but so did most of the other officers; she was the only woman working at the coffeehouse.

“I don’t know.” She admitted, beginning her usually tirade of excuses.

“Oh, come now, Major Andre encouraged us to invite more ladies to the dinner.”

Molly perked up at that information.

 _Major Andre_ , as in _John_ _Andre_ , the British head of intelligence. She had heard his name plenty of times over the past weeks. He lived nearby. But she had never seen nor met him.  
“Major Andre?” she repeated.

“Of course, he’s the one hosting the party. Come now,” he reached out and took one of her hands. She furrowed her eyebrows, not too excited by his forwardness. “Please. It would be my pleasure to invite you to the dinner.”

Molly bit the inside of her cheek, taking only a few seconds to consider it.

 _I don’t know this man._ She thought. _But, I’ve been eavesdropping for weeks now and heard nothing. This is the opportunity I’ve been waiting for. Who knows? Perhaps Andre has loose lips? … Besides, it’s not like I’ll be the only woman there. I’m sure it’ll be plenty formal._

So, against her better judgement, she smiled and said, “I am honored. I accept your invitation.”

* * *

“What’s this I heard about Major Andre’s party?”

It was Robert. They had hardly spoken since their discussion several nights ago. But now, here he was, standing beside her behind the bar.

“I’ve been invited.”

“How?”

She rolled her eyes, “If you really must know, Captain Jennings asked me.”

Robert scoffed, “You can’t be serious.” She silently continued cleaning the glasses in front of her. His expression fell, “Decline the offer.”

“What? Why?”

“I fear the worst may happen at this party. Decline the offer.”

“Oh, please, Robert –”

He placed a hand on her arm, forcing her to look at him. “I must insist. _Do not go_.”

“If you’re so concerned, why not come to the dinner with us?” she offered. She honestly had no idea why he was behaving like this.

“I will not. I never attend _these_ sorts of events.” He cleared his throat. “How well do you know Mr. Jennings?”

“Not well at all. But,” she lowered her voice, “the dinner is being hosted by John Andre. Think of the things I could hear there.”

“Ms. Strong, you don’t understand. I’ve overheard enough stories from the officers. The things they brag about…” He didn’t want to say it.

She scoffed, “Oh please, Robert. I can handle myself.”

“You are a single woman living in the city, with no family and few connections.” She was silent, now waiting for him to explain himself.

He continued, “You told me yourself, you have not visited the city in many years. Even then, you said you accompanied your father when he sold his crop at market. That type of visit was safe enough, but I am afraid that cannot be said for the rest of the city.”

“What do you think will happen? Tell me.”

“It is not the dinner itself that I am concerned about. It is after you have had too much to drink and the Captain is escorting you home.” He sighed, “Please, if it was another officer, perhaps it would be different. But I encourage you to decline the offer.”

With that, he picked up the tray of glasses and went to deliver them to the proper tables.

* * *

**December 24, 1778**

It was evening, and Molly was walking through the streets with Captain Jennings.

Although she had ignored Robert’s warning, she had not forgotten it. In her mind, she could take care of herself. And the potential intelligence she could overheard at this dinner was to significant to ignore.

He had chatted incessantly during their entire walk to the Major’s home. Molly found herself thinking the same thing she used to whenever she would speak with Ensign Baker: he was a horrible conversationalist.

Where Baker had been awkward, Jennings was proving to be more annoying than anything else. Nearly every sentence was about him. Even when he asked her about herself, he always managed to bring the conversation back to himself. She was grateful when their short walk came to an end.

And then they were at the Major’s house; it wasn’t really a house like the ones in the country she was used to; it was a townhouse.

When the door opened, Molly nearly fell down. In front of her stood Abigail, Anna and Selah’s former slave. She wracked her brain trying to figure out why Abigail was here.

She never expected Abigail _still_ to be working for Major Andre. The ring hadn’t heard from her since she sent word about Charles Lee’s betrayal. Abigail said it was too dangerous to send more information. But now Molly began to think about Cicero. He was supposed to have been sent to his mother. But last she heard, Akinbode had gone missing. She never knew if Cicero had made it.

Abigail gave Molly the same surprised look, but neither woman said anything. And they were ushered inside.

Molly was surprised how busy it was. There were officers everywhere, but only a handful of women. She looked around trying to take in everything – the people, the décor – but when she did so, she felt herself becoming self-conscious. She suddenly felt very underdressed. Her dress was plain, and it was a dress she often worked in; it was one of the few she could afford with the money Mary had sent.

The women’s hairstyles made her more nervous as well. They were all wearing expensive hairdos, and wigs. But Molly kept her hair pinned up the same way she would if she was working. Besides, even if she wanted to, she didn’t have the money to concern herself with those hairstyles.

She followed Jennings cautiously, not sure what to make of everything, but suddenly he was leading her to a group of men, and she could feel her hands becoming clammy from the nervousness. It was much different here. She wasn’t on her own turf; she wasn’t eavesdropping on her own terms; she was literally in enemy territory.

“Major.” Jennings cut in.

One of the men from the group looked up.

“I do not believe you have met my acquaintance before.” He turned to look at Molly and that’s when she realized that he intended for her to introduce herself.

“Sir,” she bowed her head slightly, “it’s nice to meet you.”

“A pleasure. I am John Andre.” The man smiled as he introduced himself.

“Molly Strong.”

She couldn’t believe it had really been that easy to meet the British head of intelligence.

She found herself looking at him, trying to take in his appearance. He looked to be close to her age. He was a handsome man; tall, with a steady voice. She noticed that a lock of his hair was braided and it hung over his shoulder. She wondered why. She had never seen that style before.

Before she could say anything else, Jennings was whisking her away to another part of the parlor. She found herself introduced to the handful of other ladies in attendance. Then Jennings left her with them to procure a drink.

Molly faintly smiled at the other women, feelings very uncomfortable now. She had always had a hard time making friends with women. Not because she didn’t want to, but because they never seemed to like her. She hated how she gave off a bad first impression, but she had no idea how to change it. She had tried time and time again, but nothing ever worked.

These women had no problem ignoring her, and she was almost grateful for it. They talked of the latest fashions and local gossip among the wealthy New York families. Molly didn’t understand half of what they were saying. She never cared for fashion, and the gossip was nothing worth eavesdropping on. It was only about rumors about women flirting with certain officers, but, as far as Molly could tell, most of the rumors were embellished.

“What do you think, Margie?”

Molly blinked. _Are they talking to me?_ That’s when she realized that they were.

“It’s Molly.” She said.

“Right.” She noticed one of the women roll her eyes.

“What about the Captain you arrived with?”

“What about him?” she asked bluntly.

“Well, are you two courting?”

She snorted in amusement. “No.”

But the other women didn’t find it funny. They continued their conversation, and suddenly Molly realized that they were gossiping about the men. But they had no intelligence to offer. Instead they were talking about who was courting whom, and who was the most attractive, and who was the wealthiest, and who had been with the most women… Molly had stopped listening at that point.

She was only in the group of women for a few minutes, but she was already bored out of her mind. Molly had never gossiped about boys before. As a child, she was always too busy beating them up. So she ignored any and all pleasantries and wandered away from the group.

She had originally done so in search of a drink, but then she noticed that Abigail was still at the front door. Waiting to open the door for other guests. Molly briefly glanced around to be sure she wasn’t followed, then she snuck way to talk to Abigail.

They silently hugged, and then held each other at arms’ length.

“I didn’t expect to see you. What are you doing here?” Abigail whispered.

“There was a problem. I’m stuck in the city now. But now I have the chance to spy on our favorite head of intelligence.”

“Have you lost your mind? It’s too dangerous. Why do you think I stopped sending word?”

Molly ignored that comment, “Is Cicero with you?”

“Yes, he’s down in the kitchen, getting ready to help serve the dinner.”

“Have you heard from Jordan?” She wasn’t sure if Abigail knew about Akinbode’s name.

Abigail looked down, smirking slightly, “Not since he dropped off Cicero. Why? He’s still a Queen’s Ranger, isn’t he?”

“I don’t know. Last I heard of him, it was almost a year ago, and apparently he was missing.”

“Oh my God.”

“That doesn’t mean anything though. I haven’t been back to Setauket in almost a year.”

Abigail’s eyebrows knitted in confusion, “What? What happened?”

They both turned when they heard a knock on the door.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll figure out a way for us to talk again.” Molly whispered.

They parted ways, Abigail answering the door and Molly returning to the parlor.

* * *

Molly was regretting her decision to attend this dinner more and more. She even voiced her concern to Captain Jennings.

“I don’t understand, why did you invite me?”

“I enjoy your company.”

“You’ve hardly spoken to me since we arrived.”

He ignored her comment.

Soon, they were all sat down to dinner. With Jennings on her right and one of the women – she forgot her name – on her left. No one talked to Molly, but she honestly didn’t mind. She desperately wanted a drink though. She still took heed of Robert’s warning, so she was minding how much alcohol she consumed. But the lack of alcohol meant that she had to endure the rest of the evening sober.

The talk during dinner was no more interesting that the women’s gossip from earlier. In Molly’s mind, it was the lowest form of gossip: Who was courting whom, who was sleeping with whom… It was all details that were as much fiction as they were fact. It was nothing she could use.

She concentrated on her plate. _At least the food is good_ , she thought. She didn’t glance up again until she was done eating. And that’s when she realized that she was the first one done with her plate.

She suddenly noticed that no one was holding their silverware the same way as her either. She ate with a knife and fork constantly in each hand. But no one else was doing that. They would pick up their knife only to cut their food, and then they laid their knife beside their plate and only ate with their fork in hand. She sat there, chewing on the inside of her cheek, even more self-consciousness beginning to consume her.

“Quite the appetite I see.” The woman beside her observed.

 _Bitch_ , Molly thought.

“I keep forgetting to ask,” the woman continued, “Ms. Strong, where are you from?”

“Setauket.

“Oh, on Long Island?” the officer across from them chimed in.

“Aye.”

“Quite a small town, isn’t it?”

“Aye.”

“That’s a farming town, correct?”

Molly’s eyebrows knitted together, “I don’t know if I’d say that. We have plenty of fishing and trade too, but everyone grows at least some sort of crop.”

“What brings you to the city?” the woman asked.

“Work.”

The woman looked appalled, but then another officer jumped in.

“That’s where I recognized you from! John,” he turned to Major Andre, “this is the lady I told you about. The one serving drinks at Rivington’s.”

“Not for much longer.” Molly admitted, suddenly uncomfortable by where the conversation was going. “By the New Year, I plan to be employed elsewhere.”

“What, is Rivington such a poor employer?”

Several of the men laughed at that.

“No, just… different opportunities.”

The party became disinterested with her once again, and the topic shifted to politics.

They began to talk poorly about Washington. It was different to hear these things before. But now that she had met him, the insults cut deeper. She felt as if they were directed towards her. And she felt the same want to defend him, just like she used to fight the other neighborhood children in order to defend Selah and Caleb. She suddenly understood why that pamphlet from Charles Lee had upset Ben so.

She was brought out of her thoughts when she felt a tug on her skirts. She shifted, thinking the fabric was snagged on the chair somewhere. Then she realized that Jennings was leaning in to whisper something to her.

“I’m sorry. I can tell you’re bored with everything. But we could sneak away if you’d like.”

She let out a quiet gasp when she felt a hand touching her bare thigh. It was Captain Jennings’. The hand belonged to him. Her mind went blank. She had never been in a situation like this, she had no idea what to do. And that’s when his hand began to move up her thigh.

 _Shit, shit, shit_ , she thought. _Robert was right about him. But what do I do? I can’t punch him… although I want to… right? Couldn’t I be arrested for attacking an officer?_

She had forgotten everything she ever knew in that second. So, in the midst of her panic, she did the only thing she could think of: she stood up. In one swift motion, she was on her feet, her chair falling as she rose. The entire table fell silent in an instant. She knew they were all staring at her, as she wordlessly.

“Is something the matter, madam?” Andre spoke up.

“I-I’ve just remembered.” She stammered, wracking her brain for a lie, “I… I forgot to tell Mr. Rivington we’re out of brandy.”

She could see the confusion gripping everyone’s expressions.

“So, if it’s not too improper, I think I will go do that.”

_You look like an idiot._

“No, of course it’s alright, if you must.”

“I’ll get your cloak.” Jennings offered, rising to his feet.

“No!” She said it louder than intended. But she meant it. She had no desire to allow Jennings to walk her home. “I can manage. Thank you.” She bowed her head and then hurried towards the front door. Abigail was already there with her cloak when she arrived.

“What’s going on in there?” she whispered.

“I’ll find a way for us to talk later. Merry Christmas, Abigail.”

“Merry Christmas.”

* * *

_God, why am I such an idiot? I should’ve listened to Robert. Why didn’t I trust him? He’s the one who’s been living in the city this entire time…_

“Ms. Strong!”

It was late, and she was already halfway down the block when she turned to address the voice. She swore under her breath. Major John Andre was headed towards her.

“I would like to apologize, Major.” She said once he reached her. “The meal and company were very nice, but I am afraid I am not myself this evening.”

“Apologies are unneeded. I noticed how inappropriately Jennings has been behaving towards you all evening.”

She blinked in surprise.

“To be honest, I was surprised to see he had convinced a lady to attend the dinner with him.” Andre lowered his voice, “I’m afraid he has a poor reputation. When I heard you say you were from the country, I knew you must be unaware of it.”

Molly felt as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

“Thank you, sir. I had no idea.”

He smiled warmly, and she found herself smiling as well.

“Here, I’ll make sure you arrive home safely.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t ask that of you. It’s your dinner–”

“Believe me, Ms. Strong, my guests will still be there when I return. But it is late.”

“I don’t want to intrude.”

“It’s no trouble. I’ll send for a carriage.”

They began to walk back in the direction of his townhouse.

“Thank you.” That was all she could think to say. “I appreciate your kindness.”

“It is my pleasure, madam. Colonel Farnworth said you work at Rivington’s? Did I hear that correctly?”

She couldn’t believe he was willing to go as far as engage in small talk with her. This man really was a gentleman, and she almost felt bad she intended to use his event for information. She suddenly found herself thinking of Ben… This man was very much like him.

“Aye. But I am unsure how much longer I will be employed there.”

“Well, when you do find new employment, I do hope you will leave the name of your new place of work with Mr. Rivington.” He paused, “For what it’s worth, I appreciated your company this evening. I know the other officers can be forward, but I always enjoy a diverse company.”

They had arrived back at the house and he set for a carriage. One arrived in front of the steps within a few minutes. He helped her into the coach.

“Merry Christmas, Ms. Strong.”

“Merry Christmas, Major Andre.”

* * *

**January 10, 1779**

Molly had just received the letter that morning, and Robert was the first person she told.

“I have news.”

“What kind of news?”

They were moving around each other behind the bar, Robert trying to refill pitchers and Molly putting full glass on a tray.

“I found employment.”

He paused in his work to look at her. Robert himself was pleased that their arrangement was finally coming to an end. He looked forward to things going back to normal; this time without his involvement in espionage.

“Congratulations are in order then, Ms. Strong. May I ask where is your new employment?”

“At the tavern on Broadway, right beside Trinity Church.”

Robert almost dropped the bottle of alcohol in his hand. He was questioning if he had heard her correctly.

“I’m sorry, did you say Broadway?”

“Aye.”

“You do know that your new employment is a mere block away from _Holy Ground_?”

“Aye, I am aware.”

Robert was baffled. Holy Ground was a section of York City littered with brothels, where soldiers in the King’s Army shamelessly frequented. Robert had always made an effort to avoid that side of town. It was not just because of the prostitutes; it was because of the crime rate as well. There were always stories of locals getting mugged if they walked down the wrong alley by mistake.

Robert placed the bottle on the counter, trying to compose himself.

“Ms. Strong, I do not believe you understand… You told me yourself that Captain Jennings mistook you for a…” He didn’t want to say it.

“What, a whore?” she asked bluntly.

“Yes. That… Why would you want to seek employment –”

“I do not want to do anything. It’s not my fault that the Lees’ Tavern is the only tavern willing to offer me a wage.” He tried to interrupt, but she cut him off, “Don’t look at me like that. I know my references are shit. The only bars I’ve ever worked at are my brother’s and this one… Listen,” she added, still seeing the distress on his face, “the Lees are offering pay as well as a room to board. I admit, the pay is horrible, but at least I know I’ll have a place to stay. Besides, wherever I end up in the city, I want to stay as near the officers as possible.”

“But if you stay there, I cannot vouch for you. And I cannot warn you of officers, such as men like Jennings.”

“I know.” A beat. “But since you refuse to help _us_ , that means I’ll have to be our man in New York. One way or another.”

She shrugged and picked up the tray, to deliver drinks to the proper tables. Robert watched her walk away. All he wanted was to be uninvolved. He couldn’t believe any of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you ask, yes. I am shamelessly quoting Tony Soprano in my TURN fanfiction. Thank you very much... "More is lost from indecision than wrong decision."
> 
> Okay, so a couple of historical side notes :)
> 
> First off, let's explain how Molly is just living her best life as a single lady with no connections in 1770s colonial America. I have done some research, and basically it was very doable for a woman to remain single. Marriage definitely had its perks bc of money and connections and protection and all that jazz. However, marriage wasn't a requirement. Women could choose to remain single -- much like the real Townsend's sister. And they also didn't need to live with family or friends. As long as a single woman could hold an occupation of some sort and find some sort of lodging, it wasn't too out of the ordinary. At this point in the story, Molly is basically just Charlotte Lucas but if she had a job...
> 
> This new chunk of the fic and the new subplots were inspired by the book "George Washington's Secret Six" by Kilmeade and Yaeger. While it is historical nonfiction, this book takes a much briefer look at the history of the Culper Ring. However, what I found interesting was how heavily focused that book's research was on the theory that Robert Townsend and Agent 355 were potentially lovers.
> 
> Before you start wondering, that has nothing to do with where this fic is going, so hear me out... One of the theories about 355 is that she could've been a wealthy woman from a prominent loyalist family in NY during the Revolution. Some historians believe that this type of woman became acquainted with Townsend and started passing information along to him. She would've had more opportunities to obtain information bc she would've been invited to events with other wealthy loyalists and high ranking military officers, so... It could make sense. Basically, I really aspects of this theory, and I knew from the beginning I wanted to incorporate some form of that into this story. Yes, I know, Molly is the complete opposite of the Agent 355 theorized in that research. She is from a small town, from a family who came in and out of wealth throughout the course of her childhood. Because she is from a rural town, and because her parents did not require her to engage in solely ladylike interests, she would be completely out of her element at a party such as John Andre's. So I thought it would be interesting to mesh those two concepts and see what we get.
> 
> Now, I know we're all probably feeling a little iffy on the whole Jennings' sexual assault whatchamacallit. Here's why I'm including it: I am a fan of the tv show Harlots. I will be the first to admit, Harlots is not an amazing show; yet, it has just enough historically accuracy to keep me watching. That show has led to me doing far more research than is probably good for me about the history of prostitution in the 1700s, and specifically prostitution in NY during the Revolutionary War. The entire time it was under British occupation, NY was a rough city. One of the reasons Holy Ground even became a thing was bc there were so many redcoats stationed there. We see Holy Ground pretty often in the tv series, but we never really see how such a large prostitution industry affects the working-class citizens. This is just me speculating, but I can see working-class citizens who have lived in the city their whole lives being shocked by how much the city changed during the course of the war. To be a single woman in a city during this time period would be dangerous. And it would really easy for someone to cause harm to a woman with few connections. (Harlots does a really good job as showing how easy it was for single women to be manipulated by pimps during this time period.) This is also a conflict that we never really had to deal with in Setauket. The town was so close-knit that everyone knew everyone's business. So, even though Molly thought it would be a no-brainer for her to become their "man in New York", little did she know all the factors that would work against her when she got to the city... I'm going to stop rambling now.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading <3


	29. 3x08

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looking back, I really wished I had included more scenes with Molly and Hewlett. So, I saw an opportunity here, and I took it :)

**February 1779**

“Molly, visitor for you!”

Molly looked up from where she was situated half under the table, cleaning vomit off the floorboards. In front of her stood Robert Townsend.

She wiped her forehead with her sleeve and sat back on her knees so she could look up at him.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

She already knew the answer though. Nearly every week since she had left Rivington’s, Robert had been coming to check on her. While she appreciated his concern, he was still adamant that he did not wish to be involved in the ring. It was for that reason why she did not necessarily enjoy his visits.

“Mr. Rivington is still insistent on providing you with complimentary copies of _the Gazette_.” Robert shrugged, holding out a copy of the newspaper.

It was an unexpected perk, and Molly still wasn’t sure what to make of it. She always accepted the newspapers though.

“Thank you.” She pushed herself to her feet.

“How have you been?”

She scoffed and looked down at the mess on the floor, “I’ve been better… And yourself.”

“The same as always.”

He looked around for a second.

“Would it be possible for us to speak alone?”

She wiped her hands on her apron and nodded her head towards the adjoining room. He followed her across the tavern. This side of the tavern was also open to the public, but it was much quieter than the main room, so it would do. As soon as they were alone, Robert produced a letter from inside his coat.

“What’s this?” Molly asked.

“A letter from your fiancé.”

Her eyes widened in surprise and she snatched the note from him and opened it. Sure enough, it was Ben’s handwriting. He had written in their invisible ink around a copy of sheet music. Robert had already applied the solvent to make the ink visible.

“I promise, I didn’t read it.” He added.

She smirked, “I wouldn’t mind if you did.”

She wasted no time reading it for she hadn’t heard word from anyone since before Christmas. It read:

_Molly,_

_I must say, I am having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that you are in York City. Caleb explained what happened, and I understand your reasoning; but I must admit that I find myself more fearful than ever. That is why I am writing to you._ _I have thought it over, and I have decided that we can make do without our man in New York. Please, I entreat you, come home. I know arriving the leaving the city so quickly may raise suspicion, but I trust you can rely on either Abraham or Mary to relay your messages to the dead drop so we may communicate an appropriate time and date. From what you have told me, I hope Mary will prove herself to be just as helpful as before. I_ _anxiously await your response._

_All my love,_ _Benjamin_

Molly’s expression fell when she saw that Ben had dated the letter. He had sent it back in December…

“When did this arrive?” she asked quietly. She could hear the disappointment in her own voice.

“Just this morning.”

“Who sent it?”

“I’m assuming Mr. Woodhull, but the letter didn’t have a return address.”

She nodded her head slowly. _So, it must’ve been at the dead drop this entire time._ She told herself. _They’ve been waiting to hear from me… Do they even know I’m safe? That I’m alive?_

“Thank you… for delivering this.” She paused, biting her lip as she thought. “Did they send anything along with it?”

“No. That was it.”

_Great. So, it’s still not safe in Setauket. I’m still stuck here._

* * *

Molly was wracking her brain trying to think of a way to get a response to Ben and Caleb.

Robert was still out, and she knew he would never risk his safety by writing to Abe. But she also remembered when Mary said it wasn’t safe in Setauket. She hadn’t heard from her since, and Molly was worried what might happen if she inquired on the subject. She briefly considered writing directly to Ben and address the letter for Middlebrook. But she reconsidered.

_What if my letter is intercepted? The redcoats don’t know about the location of the Continental encampment. Besides, how do I even know that they’re still at Middlebrook? It’s been months. They could’ve moved on since then._

So, for now, she had no way of contacting Abe or Mary, and therefore, she had no way of contacting Ben or Caleb.

She even considered writing to Selah. She knew his address, but she found herself even paranoid of that. She had no idea what would happen if that letter was intercepted. Would she be questioned for writing to a Continental congressman, even if it was her own brother? She was so far into enemy territory; she genuinely had no idea what to do.

As for her attempt at being their man in New York, she was secretly grateful that Ben suggested abandoning the idea of having eyes in York City. If she was being honest, she had made absolutely no progress in gathering intelligence.

She promised Abigail she’d find a way to contact her. But that had proven to be wishful thinking. She hadn’t seen Abigail since the night of the Christmas dinner. The same went for Major John Andre. She still thought of him often; of his kindness; how it might be possible to manipulate his kindness to discover intelligence; but she hadn’t seen him since the dinner.

If she had family connections or money or anything else, she knew it would be different. She would be invited to more events, she would be treated differently, she would have the opportunity to interact with more

But there she was, three months into her stay in New York, and she was in the same position she had been in in Setauket: cleaning vomit off a tavern floor.

The Lee Tavern was similar to Selah’s tavern in the sense that it was a much less formal atmosphere. The soldiers who visited were typically either coming from or going to Holy Ground. They were bawdy and loud and had no shame in drinking until they were ill. In a lot of ways, Molly preferred this tavern over Rivington’s Coffeehouse. At the same time, she knew she was just lying to herself. Lately, she lied to herself all the time. Just like right now.

 _It’s pointless_. She decided. _It’s not safe to contact anyone. But I guess it is good that I’ve not been able to get any valuable information. I couldn’t get it to Washington anyway._

She decided that the safest thing to do was wait. There was nothing else she could do. She would have to make do with Robert’s weekly visits. She would read the British propaganda in the newspapers; the articles trying to discredit Washington; and she would say nothing, because she could say nothing.

And she would wait and work and pray to either receive another letter from Ben or Mary. And she would pray that she would get the opportunity to send word to them. But the only thing that she truly wished for was for them to know that she was safe. That she was alive.

* * *

Molly had been in low spirits for the last several weeks.

Although she had only been living in York City for a short time, to her, it felt like a lifetime. She also hadn’t heard from _anyone_ back at camp.

She was having another one of her bad days when a familiar voice interrupted her thoughts. She was at the harbor, helping manage a delivery of more whiskey for the tavern when she heard someone calling her name.

“Ms. Strong?”

She turned and did a doubletake. She couldn’t believe her eyes.

“Major Hewlett?” she asked, just as confused.

Major Edmund Hewlett altered his stride from along the main street to near the harbor, approaching her. She made a noise in surprise when the older man pulled her into a hug.

She hadn’t been expecting that. She could remember nothing of their last interaction, but she did know that she had no seen him since she fled from Setauket a year. The only news she had heard since then was a year ago when Anna admitted to leaving him at the altar.

“How are you?” he asked once they pulled away.

“I-I,” she stammered. She shook her head slightly, trying to compose herself. Trying to process everything. “What are you doing here? Last I heard you were going back to England.”

* * *

It was that evening. Hewlett had asked Molly if they could have dinner together, to become reacquainted.

Of all places, Hewlett had chosen Rivington’s Coffeehouse. It felt weird to be back. She hadn’t stepped foot inside in weeks. It also felt weird to have Robert serving them drinks and dinner.

“I'm still an officer, but it's merely a formality. I'll be cashiered once I make it back to England.” He explained again.

She still couldn’t believe he hadn’t left for England yet. Apparently, all this time, he had been in York City, working for the military still, but serving as a secretary of sorts instead of an officer. He only had a short amount of time to go. Then he would finally be allowed to return home to sell his commission.

Molly knew of the elephant in the room. Hewlett hadn’t said anything about it, but she knew what must be on his mind; what had happened the last time he was in Setauket.

“I was sorry to hear about what happened with Anna.”

“Hm.” He feigned a smile, and she suddenly felt guilty for saying anything. “So, you heard about that?”

“She wrote to me. Tried to explain herself.”

“To be honest, I am surprised you are still on speaking terms. Seeing as she did attempt to break the law… forge divorce papers between herself and your brother.”

She looked away.

She had had a lot of time to mull over everything that had frustrated her all those months ago. She decided, in the grand scheme of things, she had overreacted a bit. That realization changed nothing, but it did make her feel better about everything that had happened.

“I suppose you were the clever one though.” Hewlett shrugged, taking a drink. “You had the sense to escape to the city. Before matters became too… complicated.” A beat. “So, is our _favorite_ Captain of the Queen’s Rangers still wreaking havoc on your hometown?”

It was Molly’s turn to shrug now. “I suppose.”

“What, surely Mary Woodhull entrusts you with enough gossip?” He remembered how close the women had been.

“To be honest, I haven’t written to Mary in a very long time.”

“Oh… I see”

They continued their conversation throughout their dinner. Molly noticed that Hewlett sounded just as low in spirits as she did. Although he said nothing, she could tell he was still deeply troubled about what had transpired in Setauket. About what had happened after she was already gone.

Seeing him out of sorts depressed her further, but at the same time, it also reaffirmed a lot of her own thoughts. She didn’t feel so bad for being out of sorts. With Hewlett, they could be out of sorts together. And she was almost glad for it.

* * *

**March 1779**

Molly and Hewlett’s dinners became a regular affair. They were both staying on opposite sides of the city, but they began writing to each other regularly. Molly had to admit, she was grateful for the company.

She knew she had been judgmental of the man the entire time they had known each other in Setauket. But now, she had to admit, he was much wittier than she had ever expected. She had learned much about him that she would’ve never guessed. And she also realized how little she had spoken to Anna about her relationship with Hewlett when she was attempting to get closer to him.

She learned that he had an obsession with astronomy. Apparently, he had wanted to study science before the war. But things changed, and he ended up enlisting as a redcoat instead.

One night, they rode outside of town, and he had a telescope in tow. And Molly found herself forced to hear about constellations for hours. She didn’t mind though. When Hewlett spoke about astronomy, it reminded her of the way Reverend Tallmadge used to speak about Bible stories.

She believed it to be the most unlikely friendship she had ever formed. But now she realized why Anna had been so protective of the man, when Abe proposed that they kill him. She understood now.

* * *

It was a Thursday afternoon when Robert Townsend walked into the Lees’ Tavern.

“What are you doing here?” Molly asked from where she was behind the bar.

Robert laid a letter on the counter. She eyed it for a moment, unsure what to make of it.

“It appears someone was not aware you are no longer employed at the coffeehouse.”

She raised her eyebrows and opened the letter. She scoffed in surprise when she realized who it was from. It was from Anna.

_Molly,_

_I will be in New York within the week. I am visiting our old friend, Edmund Hewlett. I do hope we may be reacquainted when I visit._

_With affection,_ _Anna_

Molly couldn’t believe what she was reading. _Anna! In New York! I could go home._ She thought. _I can leave the city!_

Her excitement faded though, because Anna was visiting Hewlett. That meant they had been corresponding, and Hewlett hadn’t mentioned anything of it. That worried her.

* * *

Hewlett didn’t say anything when she showed him the letter.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked. She was curious, that was all. That was why she was asking him.

“You said you had not corresponded with your sister-in-law in a long time. I assumed you might not want to hear from her.”

“Her letter was unexpected.” Molly admitted. A beat. “Will you be alright? Do you want me to be there with you?”

She honestly didn’t care about Anna and Hewlett’s relationship. It was their own business. But Molly did know that Hewlett seemed to be much more emotional about the manner than Anna was. When Anna had explained what had happened back at camp, she admitted she had only been doing everything to protect Abraham.

_It’s always about Abe._

However, now Molly considered Hewlett to be one of her closest friends in York City. She did care about him.

He smiled at her comment, “No, Molly. I can handle myself.”

* * *

It was the day Anna and Hewlett were supposed meet one another. It was the first time they had seen each other in a year. Hewlett promised Molly that he would give Anna directions to the Lees’ Tavern so she could visit Molly.

So, on the night Hewlett and Anna were to meet, Molly worked anxiously at the tavern. She could feel her hands shaking with every action. When she poured drinks, when she wiped down tables, when she carried a tray full of drinks across the tavern hall. She kept asking for the time, and it kept getting later and later.

It was nearly closing when one of the other servers called her name across them. She looked up and a wide grin broke out across her face. There stood Anna Strong. She ran over and hugged her sister-in-law. She couldn’t believe she was really there.

“Annie! Oh my gosh, you have no idea how happy I am to see you!”

They both laughed and Anna held her at arms’ length.

To see me? My gosh, look at you! Oh, it’s been so long. We’ve all been worried sick. We haven’t heard word from anyone in months.”

“Not from Abe either?”

Anna shook her head. _That explains it_. Molly thought. _It’s still not safe back home_.

“Come on.” Molly pulled the younger woman to the room behind the bar, where they kept extra inventory. They were alone.

“Mary wrote to me. Said it was too dangerous back home.” Molly explained in hushed tones.

“Simcoe?”

“I’m assuming, but I have no idea anymore.” She didn’t want to talk about that though. “How was your dinner with Hewlett?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Anna sounded hesitant. Molly didn’t blame her. At least when Ben originally called off their engagement, they had parted on good terms. It made her squirm even trying to imagine how uncomfortable it must’ve been to string Hewlett along, only to leave him at the altar.

“What are you doing visiting him anyway?”

“Benjamin sent me to bring you home, and to make contact with Abigail.”

“Oh yeah, I saw Abigail.”

“You did?” Her voice raised slightly in surprise, “And is she still working for Andre?”

Molly felt a smirk tugging at her mouth.

“I met him to.”

Anna laughed aloud, “So, Caleb was right. You are acting as our man in New York.”

“Don’t get excited. I only met him once, but I didn’t learn anything.” She shrugged. “Besides, I haven’t been able to make contact with Abigail since I first saw her. Andre’s home is too well guarded.”

Anna didn’t say anything for several seconds. Then she reached into the pocket and produced a folded piece of paper. Molly noticed she had a strange look on her face.

“I still have this pass from Hewlett. It got me into the city. It might get me into see her.” Anna shrugged, “Do you think she’ll be willing to tell me anything?”

“You? Of course. She always liked you better.”

Anna and Abigail had grown up together. Yes, one was a slave and one was the child of a slaveowners. But that was just details. It didn’t change the fact that Anna and Abigail had known each other their entire lives.

“I’ll go see her… I don’t know. Maybe tomorrow?”

“It’ll have to be when Andre is out. I know for a fact that he is typically gone during the early morning. Most of the officers travel to different parts of town for meetings during that time. So, you’ll have to go and be gone before afternoon.”

Anna was looking to the side, chewing on her lip, processing that information. She nodded. “Alright.”

Anna left not long after that. She was staying in an inn on the other side of town; the side opposite to the Lees’ Tavern and Broadway Street and Holy Ground. But Molly didn’t mind saying goodnight. She could hardly contain her excitement.

* * *

She didn’t see Anna again until the next afternoon.

“Hey, Annie.” She greeted, squeezing through the crowd of customers.

Anna looked distressed. She grabbed Molly by the wrist and pulled her into one corner of the room.

“What is it?”

“I just spoke to Abigail and Cicero.” Anna whispered. “Benedict Arnold is a traitor.”

Her expression fell. _I never did like him._ She thought briefly.

Anna continued, “He was behind that counterfeit conspiracy last year. And behind a planned ambush at Middlebrook a few weeks back. And he intends to capture Washington, and hand over West Point to the redcoats.”

“West Point?”

West Point was one of the few forts that the rebels had control over in British territory. It was a fort in New York.

“You have to get this to Washington.”

“I know. That’s why I’m here. We have to go now.”

Anna tugged on her wrist, almost suggesting that they leave right that second. Molly resisted.

“What’s wrong?” Anna asked.

“I can’t go.” She said quietly.

“What? Why not?”

“I-I can’t.” she stammered. “I have to work.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Listen, if I just flee the city, anyone would find that suspicious. But if I leave with you now, then people will go to Townsend, inquiring of my whereabouts.” She sighed, “And that would endanger us just as much as it could endanger him.”

She hated herself for saying it. But she knew it was true. It was just like in Setauket, when she and Ben were reunited and he asked her to come with him. As much as she wanted to go. To leave the city. Staying was the safest option, for all of them… or at least, she hoped so.

Anna swallowed, “Are you sure?”

“Oh, wait.” Molly abandoned her for a moment to go behind the bar. She found a scrap of parchment and a quill and quickly scribbled something on it. She returned to her sister-in-law a few moments later and shoved the paper into her hand.

“Here. It’s the address to the tavern. You wrote to me before. Write to me again. We’ll figure out a way for me to get out of the city.”

Anna looked at the paper.

“You’re sure?” She still didn’t sound convinced.

“Aye. Now go! What are you waiting for?”

They hugged briefly. And with that, Anna hurried out of the tavern, and rushed to get out of the city and back to the Continental Army encampment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the beginning of this, I have felt the need to address dates/the historical timeframe of each episode. However, as I continue to do that is these later seasons, the more headaches I get... I blame myself for making that initial decision, but I also blame the show bc, the more I try to make sense of it, the more the show’s timeline proves to be unnecessarily inaccurate. I love this show, but come on. The war lasted 6ish years. So why does everything in the last two seasons feel like a video game speedrun? Anyway, just so you know, I am briefly straying from the historical timeline… no matter how much it hurts me.


	30. 3x09

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These next two chapters are going to be really short bc we're mostly at West Point and Setauket for the season finale. Also, I'm aware that this fic has hit a wall in terms of pacing. I'm really trying to bring it around, but first, we gotta get our girl out of NY... unless...

It had been three days since Anna left New York. That’s when the rumors started circulating. First, it was a few jokes from the officers who drank at the Lees’ Tavern. Among the bawdy exchanges about the men’s recent visits to prostitutes, she heard Major Andre’s name. All the talk seemed to be in good humor.

“Heard the Major’s away for the week.”

“I hear he’s heading out of the city.”

“Don’t matter though. As long as it don’t affect us none, what _does_ it matter?”

But then those rumors very quickly became somber.

“You hear about Andre?”

“Aye, I hear he’s been taken by the rebels.”

“What are they saying about the Major?”

“Any news?”

“Apparently he left the city to gather intelligence.”

“I heard it has something to do with a rebel spy. Imagine, one of their own betraying old Washington?”

One thing became very clear: Andre had been captured by the rebels. The news of his capture made Molly just as excited as discovering Arnold’s betrayal. _Preventing sabotage and capturing the British head of intelligence. All in the same week!_ But that thought quickly dissolved from her mind. Then Robert came to visit her.

“Hello there, Mr. Townsend. May I offer you a drink?” she teased when he approached the bar.

He didn’t bother with pleasantries. “Have you heard the news?”

“What? About Major Andre? Aye.”

He lowered his voice, “Yes. But also about General Arnold.”

“Aye.” She was whispering too. “Who do you think relayed the information?”

“ _That_ was _you_?”

“Not exactly. The other 355s deserve more credit than I. But I did know about it.”

He nodded slowly and then looked around, almost to ensure they were not being overheard.

“I overheard Rivington talking to Colonel Cooke and General Clinton. Apparently, Arnold is coming to the city. They intend to have him stay at Andre’s home.”

She was surprised he was telling her this. It was unexpected.

“Did… did they discuss _what_ Arnold’s plan was?”

“Yes, they did. It was not successful, but apparently Andre and Arnold have been corresponding for some time. Arnold has been passing along information. Finally, he intended to reveal his betrayal to all. Andre’s departure from the city was for that purpose.”

Molly knitted her eyebrows together in confusion. She couldn’t believe what a coincidence it had all been; Anna’s arrival to the city corresponding with Arnold’s plot.

Robert continued, “Clinton said that Andre planned to meet with Arnold to finalize the plan. Arnold would provide a blueprint to West Point, and then Andre would pass on the information so a siege could be led on the fort.” He faintly smirked. “Arnold promised to have over Washington and 3,000 rebels… but, instead, he only crossed lines with two bargemen.”

Molly quietly snorted in amusement. She did feel vindicated to hear the outcome of their intelligence gathering, even if she was not responsible for gathering it.

“What news of Andre though?” she whispered. She was more curious to hear of him.

“No word. Clinton said that negotiations have begun though.”

She expected to hear that. She would not blame the redcoats for negotiating Andre’s release. After all, he was their head of intelligence. She was curious to see if Washington would allow it, or if he would rather keep Andre as a prisoner of war for the remainder of the war.

They stood there for a second, not saying anything.

“You should begin frequenting the coffeehouse. The news of Andre will be excuse enough. Rivington knows just as well as I that you attended that dinner of his.” He paused, “Besides, the man often inquires after your health. I’m afraid he became rather fond of you when you were working with us.”

That comment made her smile. She did not have many strong feelings for Rivington, but hearing that made her begin to feel a fondness for him as well.

“I’ll be sure to do that.”

“Right… well, I better be off. Or I am certain I will be missed.”

“We wouldn’t want that.” She smirked.

They said their goodbyes, and then Robert left. Molly continued her work, wiping down the dirty glasses behind the counter. But now, as she worked, she was having a hard time hiding the smile that was tugging on her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John Andre actually was captured and died between September to October 1980. Based on all the dates provided in the show, it's implied that Season 3 ep. 8 takes place in December of 1778 (maybe even Jan 1779). But then, in ep. 3x09, Hewlett makes the comment to Andre that he's only been in NY for one month, and, as we know, Hewlett left the colonies, unsuccessfully tried to sell his commission in England, and then returned to the colonies. So, that would mean, if the dates were correct, then Hewlett would have arrived in the city in August 1780... but the show makes that impossible. I've been playing with the timeline for weeks now, and my conclusion is there is literally no way around this inaccuracy. Why did the show's writers chose to have Andre die a year and a half before he actually did...?? The world may never know 😑


	31. 3x10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're done with Season 3!!

“Is it true?”

“Is what true?”

“About Major Andre.”

She had overheard the news at the Lees’ Tavern earlier that day. It was all any of the soldiers could talk about. John Andre was to be hanged.

As soon as her shift ended, she had hurried across town to Rivington’s Coffeehouse. She knew that Robert or Rivington would know; because of Rivington’s form position as a loyalist, the officers always shared more information with them.

Robert kept his eyes on his work, cleaning out glasses on the bar. “Yes, it’s true.”

“Are they allowed to do that?”

During her time as a camp follower and as Ben’s aide-de-camp, she had learned much about military protocol. She knew that if an officer was to be executed, it would be via firing squad. However, if any soldier – enlisted or officer – was involved in espionage, the death sentence would be hanging.

Robert sighed and leaned forward slightly, still keeping his voice down. “General Clinton already explained the matter to us. Washington tried to negotiate a trade: Andre for Arnold. However, they have refused the proposal. Even though Arnold failed on his promises, if they disregard his betrayal, Clinton believes it would dissuade other informers from turning coats.”

Molly nodded slowly, absorbing the information.

“And Andre’s position as head of intelligence doesn’t do him any favors?” she asked, trying to understand the politics herself.

He nodded, “Major Andre was apparently captured carrying intelligence from Arnold.”

“And that confirms he was acting as a spy as well?”

“Exactly.”

They looked at each other briefly. She knew that they were thinking the same thing. If either of them was ever discovered for their espionage, they would meet the same fate as John Andre. They would, too, be hanged.

* * *

Molly received a letter from Anna later that day. She didn’t recognize the address, but it was from New Jersey. The rebels were using one neutral address to organize their post. The letter was brief.

… _Make your excuses and prepare yourself to leave the city. Await a further letter from me before doing so._

So that’s what she did. She still hadn’t made contact with Abigail or Cicero since the Christmas dinner. But she didn’t think much of it. She was sure that Abigail and Anna had worked something out when they visited each other.

She did not resign from her position as a barmaid. Instead, she merely told some of her co-workers that she had heard from family, and she was considering leaving the city to live with them. And then she waited.

* * *

They received news of John Andre’s execution by the end of the week.

Molly requested the rest of the day off, and she went to see Robert. She was stood at the bar, solemnly drinking a glass of whiskey. She knew she should feel silly. After all, she had only met the man once. But he had shown her kindness. She liked him because of it.

She and Robert had said nothing to each other. As soon as she entered, they exchanged the same look, and he poured her a glass. It was unusually quiet inside the Coffeehouse. It seemed that everyone else was in mourning as well. Andre was just as well liked by the other officers.

“Surely this must herald the end, don't you think?”

It was so quiet that Molly could hear Rivington speaking quietly from across the room. He was sitting and drinking with some of the higher-ranking officers.

“The end? The end of what?”

“The bloody rebellion… Benedict Arnold tries to nab 3,000 Yanks and comes over with two bargemen. He's a rat who didn't get the cheese. The ship must be near sinking when the rats are leaving it.”

She gulped down the rest of her drink, and then held out her glass for Robert to refill it. He complied.

“My father came to visit a few days ago. He hoped you are in good health.” He said as he poured her more whiskey.

“I am. Just in poor spirits.”

“As am I. I admit, I quite liked the man.”

She took another hearty gulp.

“How _is_ your father?” she asked.

“He’s well.”

“Still shaken up from Thanksgiving.” Although she was in poor spirits, she still enjoyed teasing her Quaker ally.

Robert rolled his eyes, “Thankfully, no. He’s a forgiving man. He’s already forgotten his distaste towards your friend.”

She smirked and looked back down at the contents of her glass. The comment reminded her of how much she missed Caleb.

She could still hear Rivington speaking from across the room. He was reading from a copy of his newspaper. He had written up an article announcing Andre’s death. And he was reading it now.

“‘When the epic strain was sung, the poet by his neck was hung, and to his cost he found too late, the dung-born tribe decides his fate.’" A beat. “Our André will be avenged.”

Several of the officers raised their glasses.

“Hear, hear!” They agreed, though their tone was less than enthusiastic.

A few moments later the door to the coffeehouse opened, and Molly noticed the atmosphere around her change. The officers began talking quietly amongst themselves, but they were much more alert than before.

“Is that Arnold?”

“Turncoat.”

Molly felt her blood run cold. She glanced over her shoulder briefly, and she was overwhelmed by the feeling of nausea. There in the doorway stood General Benedict Arnold. And he was dressed like a redcoat.

She lowered her glass to the bar, trying to keep her hands from shaking.

 _Shit, shit, shit._ She thought. _I’m an idiot. Robert did mention that Arnold was moving to the city._

And now it seemed that he was here. But she was also here. And she remembered when they had met at that officers’ dinner all those months ago. She had been introduced as Ben’s wife.

“Mr. Rivington.” Arnold spoke up. “Brigadier General Benedict Arnold at your service, sir.” He introduced himself. He approached the table where the journalist was. “I wish to publish a proclamation, _To the Inhabitants of America_.”

“Can you afford the space, sir?” Rivington asked. His tone suddenly changed, “That is, after all the ink you purchased to publish your exoneration by the American court.”

Several of the officers burst into laughter.

It was no secret that the redcoats had no sympathy toward Benedict Arnold. In fact, most of them were upset that the British leaders had refused to trade Andre for Arnold.

The redcoats had heard word of Arnold’s court-martial as well. Months ago, Arnold got into trouble because he was using his officer title to make a profit off captured British goods. The goods were supposed to benefit the Continental Army, but Arnold began reselling portions to make a profit for himself.

Molly knew that Caleb and other privateers did that all the time. But that was different. Privateers weren’t officers in the army. And the war was much different on the sea than on land. Caleb had explained it to her once.

“I can afford that and more.” Arnold snapped.

He walked back across the room, and Molly tensed when the man stood beside her at the bar. She picked up her glass again, trying to avoid eye contact. If she left now, she knew she’d be found out. Her only hope was to finish her drink quietly and flee before he recognized her.

“Drink. Whatever's cheapest.” Arnold said.

“Here you are, sir.” Robert replied casually, handing him a glass. “Our best ale. On the house.”

“Do you know who I am?” Arnold asked, taking a sip.

“I believe so, sir. I read _the_ _Gazette_."

“Don't believe everything you read. Some claim my defection a failure.” He sounded bitter. He leaned his elbows on the bar as he continued, “They don't know our plans were betrayed by a treacherous ring of rebel spies.”

Molly froze with her glass pressed to her lips. She shot Robert a glance, but he remained unphased.

Arnold went on, “Oh, that story was not printed. It was their young leader who sabotaged me.

 _Ben_ , she thought.

“He'll come to regret that. I'll find his spies wherever they lie in their filth and I'll drag them screaming to the gallows. Then you can read about that. No one will ever know the true measure of my sacrifice.

“It is difficult to measure sacrifice.” Robert shrugged, “Often it seems to me that it is a road with no end.”

Arnold scoffed, “Of course there's an end. The end is death.”

Robert nodded slowly, then left the man to enjoy his drink. He looked at Molly for a second before walking out from behind the bar. Now it was his turn to approach Rivington’s table.

“Mr. Rivington.”

“What is it, Townsend?

“I'd like to buy an advertisement.”

Molly nearly choked on her drink. Advertisements were the way Robert communicated with the ring. She turned to look over at him. He still appeared unfazed.

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep her grin at bay. She had no idea what had swayed him, but one thing was clear: When Molly left, they still had their man in New York.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun historical note: When Andre was hanged, Townsend sent a message to Ben where he described how saddened the other soldiers (and himself) were with the news. All of them held Andre in high esteem.


	32. 4x01

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I considered waiting to post these next couple of chapters until I had the timeline in "Two Sides of the Same Coin" caught up with this one, but then I realized that not all of you are reading both stories, and it didn't seem fair to delay any longer. After all, I've had a few of these chapters done for quite some time.

**May 1779**

It had only been a week since John Andre’s hanging and since Benedict Arnold had been in York City, and, already, General Arnold was proving to be a nuisance.

Much to her surprise, when she was forced to face Arnold that day at the coffeehouse, his expression was blank. When he eyed her, there wasn’t the faintest look of recognition.

 _Surely, he can’t be that thick._ She told herself.

But he soon proved that he was.

The British had not granted him Andre’s old position as head of intelligence. Instead, he was placed in charge of his own regiment, called the American Legion. Their mission was to weed out spies working against the British.

“His official title is _Spyhunter General_.”

Molly snorted in amusement and struggled to suppress more laughter when Robert told her. The title was ridiculous enough. But what made the entire deal even more humorous was how self- _un_ aware the General had proven himself. The man was terrible with names.

Whenever he visited the coffeehouse, he always called Robert “Townsends” or “Townsley”. As for Molly herself, she also experienced his errors firsthand. She was forced to introduce herself, and she was forced to use her real name. But her name still didn’t ring any bells. She suspected that Arnold had been one of the officers who assumed she and Ben were already married. “Ms. Strange” and “Ms. Song” were two of his favorite mispronunciations when they interacted.

But, despite the man’s incompetence, it didn’t change the fact that York City was now far more dangerous for the ring. And that was one of the reasons why she was leaving. She had already corresponded with Anna. She had already spoken to her employer, and she was set to resign her position within the next week. Or at least that was the plan.

* * *

Three days before she was set to leave, Robert came to visit her at the Lees’ Tavern. She was at the bar wiping down mugs and refilling pitchers. He ordered a drink out of politeness, but she knew he wouldn’t touch it. He never drank.

“When you leave the city, I need you to procure me more agent and reagent.”

He kept his voice low and his tone casual as he pretended to sip at the ale. Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

“That supply was supposed to last you for years. What happened to yours?” she asked.

“I had a moment of panic.” He admitted. “I ran into your old friend, Mr. Simcoe.”

She fumbled, spilling ale down the front of her dress, and nearly dropped the entire pitcher in her hands. She took a few seconds to regain her composure and leaned in closer to him.

“What? He’s here? In the city?” she whispered; her voice strained.

“Yes.”

She put a hand to her head and rubbed her temples briefly. She hadn’t thought about Simcoe in several months. She assumed he would still be stationed in the country, in Setauket. That’s why she couldn’t go home, after all. But now that he was here, that changed everything.

“Why? What does he want? What did he say?” she asked frantically.

“He inquired after your health.” Robert sounded panicked now, too. It was only because of her reaction. He didn’t expect such an anxious reaction.

“And, what did you tell him?” He looked away for a moment and she feared the worst. “You didn’t tell him I worked _here_ , did you?”

“I had to.” He jumped in before she could interrupt him. “Rivington was listening to everything I said. If I didn’t, it would bring suspicion upon both of us.”

“Robert!” she scolded through clenched teeth. She wasn’t angry, she was genuinely distressed.

“I apologize, but I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Well, now I can’t leave the city.”

His face fell. He wasn’t expecting to hear that.

“Why not?”

“I’ve told my employer, Mr. Lee, that I wanted to move out of York City to be with relatives. But Simcoe knows everything about my family from when we knew each other in Setauket. He knows that my brother is actively working with the rebels.” She scoffed, “As for my sister-in-law, he knows he fled Setauket a year ago. Surely he suspects that she fled to be with the rebels.” She shook her head, still in disbelief, “If he knows _I’m_ leaving–”

He cut her off, “I know. I understand. That’s why I came to warn you. Is there any way you can flee _now_?”

She shook her head, “I won’t flee, Robert. If I do so now, then I’ll practically announce my guilt. And that would only lead them back to you.”

He was the one shaking his head now. He didn’t believe it was that obvious. If she fled now, it would not be Robert’s fault that she was missing. The blame would only be on her. “There is a solution.”

“There isn’t though.” She decided. “It’s not your fault. It’s mine. When I chose to stay behind, during Thanksgiving, it was for a selfish reason. I was only thinking of myself. Of feeling superior to Abraham. I never even considered what my presence here could mean for you, for myself, for all of us–”

“Wait. Listen to me–”

“I have. And I promise, I’ll find a way to send word to Anna, to send you more ink.”

With that, she picked up a pitcher and began making a round around the tavern, refilling mugs.

Robert stood there, struggling to remain composed. He, too, couldn’t believe what was happening. Molly would leave. She could do so in a way that would lead to little or no suspicion upon Robert himself. And there she was, unwilling to listen. Too stubborn to listen. So certain she was right.

Robert understood why she was fearful. He was fearful too. But what else could he do? He couldn’t force her to leave. She would have to do so herself.

He lifted his mug to his lips, and this time he actually drank the ale. He never liked the taste of ale much, but suddenly, he was beginning to understand what Molly meant when she said she “needed a drink”. He just prayed she would change her mind, before it actually _was_ too late to leave the city.

* * *

The thing was, Molly _didn’t_ heed Robert’s warning. She told Mr. Lee of her change of plans, and she wrote to Anna explaining how it was no longer safe for her to leave the city.

 _I’ll be fine_. She kept telling herself. _Just a little hiccup. I’ll be able to arrange to leave the city soon. As soon as I know that Robert won’t be questioned when I flee_.

And then, she waited.

Simcoe visited the tavern the day after she was originally set to leave the city. That detail made her question whether she had made the right decision.

“Ms. Strong.”

She tensed at the familiar voice and finished filling the mug in front of her. She held her breath as she turned to look at who the voice belonged to. There by the bar was stood John Graves Simcoe.

“Captain.” She greeted, walking back to the bar.

“It’s Lieutenant Colonel now, actually.”

She struggled not to roll her eyes. _Of course it is._

“I received a promotion.” He added.

“Well, congratulations are in order then.” She feigned a smile. “First drink, on the house.” She offered.

“Thank you, Ms. Strong. I appreciate your kindness.”

She stepped back behind the bar and quickly poured him a drink.

“I must say, it gave me peace to know you were in the city, and not in Setauket. After all that has transpired there.” He said.

She paused briefly. She wasn’t sure what that meant, but his tone was condescending. She remembered Mary’s letter. She had said that Simcoe was still searching for spies, for Robert Rogers, in Setauket. And he had proven himself to be more of a menace than anything else.

“I admit, I have had little contact with Mary recently. I trust she is in good health.” Molly tried to keep her tone casual. But she was feeling the familiar anxiety she used to feel whenever she spoke to Simcoe at Strong Tavern. She had forgotten how much she hated the feeling.

 _I should’ve cut my losses and left while I still could_. She thought fleetingly.

“I ran into your friend, Mr. Townsend.” Simcoe said next. “He’s still a skittish man, I see.”

“He’s just shy. Likes to keep to himself.” She shrugged, “Can’t say I blame him. It’s been nice, working here, on my own. Away from the gossip back home.”

“Have you worked at this tavern your entire time in the city?”

 _Shit_. There was no way she could make excuses for not being in the city for a whole year. She just had to hope their conversation won’t become that detailed.

“Um, I worked at Rivington’s Coffeehouse for a short time. Actually, that’s how Robert and I met.”

 _Stop talking, stop talking,_ she immediately scolded herself.

“Hm. That explains it.”

He drank more.

“Will you be in the city long?” she stammered.

“Yes. My men and I are actually stationed in upstate New York. But we have orders to come to the city, to help General Arnold with his _spyhunting_.” He smirked, and the expression sent shivers up Molly’s spine. “Have you met the General? The rebel turncoat?”

“I have, actually.”

“A foolish man, but a dedicated one as well.”

Molly continued to work, and Simcoe took an agonizingly slow amount of time to finish his drink. When he finally left, he said his goodbyes, and then Molly snuck away to the back room behind the bar. Her excuse was to grab more ale from the storage room.

But as soon as she was back there alone, she closed the door and slid down to the ground, pulling her knees to her chest. She was hyperventilating now, and she was nauseous, and she had broken out into a cold sweat, and she suddenly felt as it the room was too small, and her clothes were too tight. She was having a panic attack.

She sat there for several minutes, trying to compose herself.

 _I’m so stupid_. She thought. _Robert was right. He’s always right. Why didn’t I leave while I still had the chance? If I leave now, Simcoe will know of my guilt._

* * *

The next day, Molly was down at the wharf, overseeing a delivery of whiskey. She had received a letter from Hewlett that morning.

He had been distant since his reunion with Anna, and she was sure he felt embarrassed about everything that had happened. In his letter, Hewlett explained that his time in York City had come to an end. By time she received the letter, he was already onboard a ship on his way home to England.

She did feel a little sad that they had parted ways to suddenly. Truth was, she did enjoy his company. But she shook off the feeling. Now, that was merely another loose end that had been tied up. She didn’t need to make excuses to him about why she might leave the city. She was half lost in her thoughts, half focusing on the delivery, when she heard someone say her name.

“Molly?”

She turned to address the speaker, and her mouth fell agape.

“Jor-” she corrected herself. “Akinbode?”

She couldn’t believe it, but it was him. He was wearing a wide-brimmed hat and civilian clothes. He somehow looked younger. She had only ever seen him in his work clothes back at Strong Manor, and then in his Queen’s Rangers uniform.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, abandoning her work to face him.

“I could ask you the same question.”

She lowered her voice, “Last I heard, you were accused of deserting the Queen’s Rangers.”

“Mmhmm, that’s exactly what I did. I’ve been in Canada, setting up a place there.” He looked around briefly. “You know where Abigail is?”

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. She knew then that Abigail had lied to her. She inquired after Akinbode just to ensure that he hadn’t been captured. But she must have known just as well that he had fled to Canada. Molly suddenly felt played. They were on the same side, but Abigail had still managed to manipulate her.

“No. I haven’t seen her in months. Or Cicero, for that matter.”

“I went to see her. That Andre’s place. The lady working there said that they had crossed lines, that they’re in rebel territory now.” He was almost whispering now. “So, I need to know, where is your rebel camp?”

“W-What?” she stuttered.

“Don’t be so coy. I know you’re a spy… or something.”

Her mouth was completely agape now. She didn’t know what to say, what to do. _Should I run?_

“Don’t blame me. You should be more careful what you share with Abigail’s boy.”

She swore aloud.

 _Cicero! Damn him! I knew it was trouble sharing a room with him. I guarantee he read through my codebook, my letters, everything back in Setauket_.

“How much do you know?” she asked.

“Only as much as he told me. But I don’t care about that. I’m just looking for Abby and the boy.”

As much as she didn’t like it, she was going to have to trust him.

“I don’t know where the army is either. Last I was there, the camp was in Middlebrook, New Jersey. But they’ve moved on since then. I don’t know where. I’ve been stuck in the city for the last couple of months.” She added quickly, “It’s not safe for you here either. Simcoe’s here.”

It was Akinbode’s turn to look surprised.

“The Rangers are stationed in the city now.” She explained.

He exhaled sharply, “Well, then I guess we both better be careful.” He cleared his throat. “And I guess we’re both stuck in the city… till we hear more.”

She nodded slowly. As strange as the entire encounter was, one thing was clear: Molly and Akinbode had just formed an alliance.


	33. 4x02

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is going to make you very upsetti spaghetti 🙃

It had been several weeks since Molly’s encounter with Simcoe and Akinbode. She hadn’t seen either man since then. And, for that, she was grateful.

Now that she knew that Akinbode knew of her secret, she was beginning to reconsider her original decision to delay her departure from the city. She still didn’t fully trust him. After all, he had been a Queen’s Ranger once. He could do plenty of damage with the information he knew.

As for the rebels, she had received further instructions from Anna.

_…We were disheartened to hear of your decision to delay your journey. Please know that we are prepared to expect you at any time. If you would prefer to travel by yourself at a more convenient time, do not hesitate…_

The note had included a series of numbers. Numbers from the codebook. Molly translated them fast enough and one thing was certain: the rebels had moved their camp to New Windsor, New York. They were close, yet still, it would be a long trip. New Windsor was north of York City, near West Point.

The only thing stopping her was Arnold’s search for spies in the city. A single woman traveling alone would be questionable enough. But Simcoe was also working with Arnold. And Simcoe knew well enough that Molly had no family connections north of York City. If word reached him before she had gotten far enough away… She didn’t even want to consider it.

Right now, it was a waiting game. She was waiting for another opportunity. She didn’t know exactly how it would appear, but she had already decided that she would be prepared anytime that opportunity may arise.

* * *

Molly was cleaning tables at the Lees’ Tavern. It was midday, but the tavern was packed fully of soldiers and officers, and it was loud and hot, and she was desperately trying to ignore the deafening noise of chatter. When she turned around, she jumped, clutching her rag close to her chest. She had bumped right into Colonel Simcoe himself.

“Ms. Strong”

“Colonel.” She sighed, trying to hide the annoyance in her voice.

She assumed this was going to be a tedious visit. But that proved to be incorrect. Simcoe wasted no time getting to the point.

“I must say, it is the most curious thing. I ran into an old friend of yours from Setauket.” His tone was more condescending than usual. “A whale boatman. By the name of Brewster. You remember him?”

She gripped her rag tighter. She was trying to suppress her emotions, but she knew her eyes were wide with worry.

“And you just _ran_ into him? How might that have happened? Run into him at _Holy Ground_ , perhaps?”

She didn’t know why she said that. But she was almost happy she did. She had hoped it may make him squirm as well, but she was wrong. He was as composed as ever.

“No.” He smiled, and it was a terrible smile. A condescending smile that made _her_ squirm. “In fact, he's been taken prisoner. He’s set to be questioned by General Arnold. Seems he may be a rebel spy.”

She was taking shaky breaths now, and she knew her hands were visibly trembling. She kept gripping the rag, trying to hide her discomfort. But the truth was, she was terrified. Caleb was in trouble. He could die. He could be killed. _I wonder if Ben and Anna know where he is._

“Why are you telling me this?” she asked quietly.

“It is _gossip_ , is it not? If I were to receive word that my childhood acquaintance was being held prisoner for treason against His Majesty, I do believe I would be very interested to know.”

The way he said it. _Gossip_. As if he knew about her. As if he knew about everything.

She purposely didn’t respond. It was obvious that he was saying these things to get a rise out of her. She couldn’t let him. Because just like in Setauket, in York City, he had no evidence to indict her. That’s why he was reduced to psychological warfare.

“Good day, Ms. Strong.” He finally said. And then he was gone.

And she was left standing there, unsure of what to do. But one thing was repeating over and over in her head.

 _Caleb_.

* * *

Caleb was sat in a chair in a large office. Although the room was large, it was sparse. All there was were a few chairs and a desk and a fireplace along one of the walls. His hands were being bound behind his back by one of the Rangers who had just dragged him from his cell. He had been in York City for a week.

After his latest assignment, which included burning a supply of hay set to be sent to the King’s Army, he had gone ahead and stolen twenty braces of ham hock from the redcoats as well. He did so knowing they cost a fortune on the London Trade.

The plan was for him to sell the ham on the Connecticut Coast – rebel territory – and then meet Ben back at the New Windsor camp. But things went awry when his contact betrayed him, and he was captured by the redcoats.

So now he was here, awaiting questioning. He didn’t show his worry, but if he was being honest, he had no idea if Ben knew where he was. He had no idea if Ben was already sending men to search for him.

He wasn’t exactly sure where in the city he was. He knew he was in a prison of some sort. And it wasn’t the same one he had visited before, when he came to the city to find Abe in prison all those years ago. A part of him kept thinking that maybe he could find a way to escape, find Molly wherever she was in the city, and bring her back to camp. _Now that would be quite some trick_. He tried to reassure himself.

As soon as the Ranger finished the knots, into the room came the turncoat himself: Benedict Arnold.

“Leave us.” Arnold ordered, and the Ranger scampered out of the room.

To be honest, Caleb was amused to see the General. He had never understood why Ben had a high opinion of the man. And he found the fact that the man wound up being a traitor funny.

“Hiya general. How’s your day going?” He grinned. “You know, I don’t know if you’re the fellow to be taking this up with, but the food here is terrible.”

He was having a hard time controlling his tone. A part of him wanted to burst into laughter. He enjoyed teasing the man.

Arnold rolled his eyes at the comments and took a seat at his desk, shuffling through some papers.

“Do you find your situation here amusing, Lieutenant Brewster?”

“Well if I’d spouted off to you back in camp, I’d be thrown in jail, but seeing as you’ve turned coats, and I’m already in chains, I can finally speak me mind, and tell ya, you are a two-faced, pompous, piece of shite.” It felt great to say that aloud. Caleb had been thinking it for so long. “So yeah, I do find it a touch amusing.”

Arnold laid a piece of paper down in response.

He said, “I know you’re the whale boatman named in Mr. Sackett’s papers.”

Mr. Sackett’s papers. As in the ones that Gamble had stolen from their camp after he killed Mr. Sackett.

Caleb was surprised that the redcoats still had them. Nothing seemed to come of the breech in security, so they assumed that the papers had little information of importance.

“The courier for Benjamin Tallmadge and his Culper Ring.” Arnold continued. “And I know if you don’t give up the names of your confederates, then you’ll be hanged.”

Caleb kept his expression neutral. So what if they knew of his position in the ring? It was just an accusation.

He shrugged, “Right. What’s in it for me?” He knew he wasn’t going to admit to anything. But he was curious.

“Well, if you cooperate, I’ll spare your life.”

“That’s it? I get to live in this shithole or some other?” He laughed aloud.

He knew very well that, even if he admitted to nothing, the redcoats could still have him imprisoned for the remainder of the war. Heck, they could even decide to send him to _the Jersey_. But he didn’t care. He was willing to do that.

“No, I don’t think I’ll be confessing for spying for that. And if I don’t confess, you can’t hang me, so you’re not really offering me anything are you?”

The two men looked at each other for a moment.

“What did you have in mind?” Arnold finally asked.

“Well, let’s see, how much did you get for jumping ship?”

Everyone in the Continental Army knew that the only reason Arnold had turned coats was because of greed. He was bribed.

“The whole $10,000, I heard, you were after? Or did the lobsters short ya?” He chuckled again when he saw Arnold’s expression fall.

“They did, didn’t they? The slimy bastards!” He laughed. “You see, that’s why I always insist on money in hand before I hand over me goods.”

“Oh so you admit to smuggling?” Arnold snapped.

“Well, nowhere near your level. I read your record of court-martial, your business dealings in Philadelphia were quite-”

Arnold cut him off, “I was– I was cleared of all charges!”

“Yeah?” he scoffed, “That’s not what I hear. And it’s not what they say.”

“And what do they say?”

Caleb grinned.

“About you? What, _in camp_? They say that if you were ever to be captured, they’d cut off your leg, the one that was wounded in Saratoga, and they’d bury it with honors. But the rest of you, they’d just hang.”

Arnold jumped to his feet, outraged by the comment.

“You dirty little runt!” he hissed.

“Well, at least I ain’t a Judas, who sold out his whole country for a pile of silver!”

Arnold gave him one last glare and stormed out of the room. Caleb continued to laugh as he watched him stomp out. Arnold was a General, for God’s sake! And he was behaving like this.

Caleb’s laughter trailed off when he noticed another person approaching his chair. He turned slightly to see who it was, and that’s when the grin faded from his face. Standing before him was the dreaded John Graves Simcoe himself. Before Caleb could even process everything fully, Simcoe spoke up.

“My turn.”

With that he punched Caleb in the jaw so hard, that the man tumbled back in his chair, hitting the ground with a hard _thud_.

* * *

Caleb was startled awake by cold water being splashed on his face. He gasped aloud and tried to blink the water out of his eyes and shake it out of his beard. He was still restrained in his chair.

The last thing he remembered was Simcoe beating him repeatedly. But he couldn’t fight back, with his arms and legs tied to the chair. Eventually, he blacked out. When he looked around now, he knew that he had only lost consciousness for a few minutes.

“Back with us again?” Simcoe said with a feigned cheeriness.

Caleb knew the man was enjoying every minute of this. _The sadistic bastard_. He thought. He groaned as he tried to shift in his seat. He could feel warm blood tricking from his nose.

“I was afraid you’d drifted off, and so early in the evening.”

“What did I miss?” Caleb asked, refusing to drop his amused tone. He refused to give Simcoe the satisfaction.

“Just the preliminaries. I wanted to get the small talk out of the way before we began a real conversation. Just to be clear, this isn’t about payback…”

 _Payback_. Caleb knew that Simcoe wanted revenge for that time he and Ben had questioned him. Caleb admitted, he had gone a bit overboard, beating Simcoe in an attempt to get information. But he didn’t feel sorry for it.

“…It’s about respect.” Simcoe continued.

“That’s funny. I got none for you.”

Simcoe moved the chair from behind the desk so that it was set across from where Caleb was sitting.

“Well, I think you were showing me a warrior’s respect by your eagerness to inflict pain. To think anything less would break me would have been an insult. Now I extend you the same courtesy.” He took a seat.

“You expect me to thank you for that?”

“When one soul recognizes its counterpart, even in an enemy, there’s already a measure of gratitude.”

“Untie me here, and I’ll show you how grateful I am.” Caleb challenged.

“See? As beasts we make a promise that one will stand and one will fall. But between us, that promise has gone unfulfilled thus far. And we both know that you would have killed me at Meeg’s Harbor had Tallmadge not intervened, or killed me in captivity if General Scott hadn’t interrupted. Or the ambush at Rocky Point, if you’d been a better warrior.”

“Oh yeah.” Caleb rolled his eyes. He didn’t want to hear any of this.

“No, that ambush answered a question for me, because even though you had the advantage, I still bested you and your master, Robert Rogers.” Simcoe stood up once again. He returned to a small table beside the desk and began pouring himself a drink. “Or should I call him _Samuel Culper_?”

Despite everything, Caleb quietly chuckled. He had always found that misunderstanding musing. Simcoe slowly turned back to face him.

“What did you say?”

“Oh, I didn’t say shite.”

“No.” He set his drink down. “That laugh… was the first honest thing you’ve said.” He was sat back across from him now. “And with it, you were telling me I was wrong.”

Caleb could hear the realization in Simcoe’s voice, and he didn’t like the sound of it. He needed to get them onto another topic.

Simcoe then asked, “But did you mean I was wrong about besting you… or wrong about Rogers?”

“Did you honestly wake me up for this shite?”

“If Rogers isn’t Culper, then who?”

Caleb tried his best to look genuinely confused. Simcoe averted his gaze for a second, lost in thought.

“Strong.” He finally said. “It was Strong all along.”

Caleb could feel himself beginning to panic. His hands suddenly became clammy, and his mind was racing. He kept trying to appear ignorant of the topic. He chuckled.

“What, _Selah_ Strong?” He laughed aloud. “What, you mean the tavern owner?”

“No, of course not.” Simcoe sounded smug. “I mean _Ms._ Strong. _Molly_ Strong?”

Caleb laughed again, trying to behave as if the idea was absurd. But Simcoe didn’t buy into it. Because he continued.

“All this time, I was meant to be looking for a man by the name of Culper. But I should’ve known.” Simcoe was the one chuckling now, and Caleb could feel his feigned smile fading fast. “I should’ve suspected that Samuel may be in name only. A name used to throw me off the trail. Because who would suspect a _woman_ as being Culper?”

He was on his feet again, pacing now as he thought aloud. And all Caleb could do was listen in horror.

“It makes sense.” He went on. “The victim. The poor _loyalist_ woman whose brother was arrested by the King’s Army. But not only that, the poor _loyalist_ woman who was formerly engaged to a _Major Tallmadge_.” He was smiling now. It was a terrible smile. “But what’s easier to believe? A veteran savage like Rogers taking orders from the likes of Major Tallmadge? Or a woman with the motivation and connections? Four friends from the same little town?”

“Oh yeah.” Caleb rolled his eyes again.

“Tallmadge the leader. _You_ the courier. Molly Strong is Culper. And that just leaves the man in New York, Culper Jr.”

Although Simcoe was still incorrect, he was correct enough to cause a lot of damage. And that was even more dangerous.

Caleb made one last attempt. “Who the hell is Culper?”

Simcoe hurried over to the desk and picked up parchment and a quill.

“A full confession will be required.” He explained, so sure of himself. “I’ll take dictation.”

“Never gonna happen.”

Simcoe narrowed his eyes.

“I encourage you to reconsider.” He said slowly.

Caleb was grinning again, suddenly amused by Simcoe’s frustration. He winked in response. Simcoe drew his bayonet from where it was sheathed at his belt.

“Challenge accepted.”

* * *

It was nearly closing, but the Lees’ Tavern was still brimming with customers. Molly was rushing back and forth, trying to deliver as much ale as quickly as possible. She huffed in frustration when a Queen’s Ranger stepped in front of her, blocking her path.

“Excuse me, I’ll be with you in just a moment.” She promised, gesturing for him to move.

He didn’t move though.

“Colonel Simcoe wishes to speak to you.”

“Well, tell the Colonel I am still on the clock. If he wishes to speak to me, it will have to wait until morning.”

She tried to push passed him, but he put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her. She glared up at the man.

“Colonel says its urgent. He says if you won’t come willingly, then I’m to arrest you to ensure you come.”

They glared at each other for a moment, then Molly finally complied. She didn’t want to cause a scene. She swore aloud and passed the drinks onto one of the other servers near her.

“I’ll be back soon.” She promised her co-worker.

She then followed the Ranger outside. Once they were in the street, a second Ranger joined them. She had no idea what Simcoe wanted, but it was late, so she feared it was related to Caleb’s capture in some way.

As they walked through the streets, she suddenly became aware of the fact that one Ranger had fallen behind. She was forced to follow one while the other followed her. She felt uneasy.

“I’m sorry, may I inquire as to _why_ Colonel Simcoe wishes to speak to me? What is so urgent?”

Both Rangers ignored her.

She didn’t like this. She didn’t like any of this. Suddenly, her mind went back to over a year ago, when MacInnis and Tanner had escorted Anna and Abe into the woods, and they intended to kill them. These Rangers gave off a similar atmosphere. She slowed her pace slightly. The Ranger walking behind her pressed a hand into her lower back, forcing her forward.

“Can’t slow our pace.” He said.

And that’s when she knew she needed to get away from these men. With each step after that, she was now in search of an escape route. They walked for a few more blocks, and that’s when she saw her chance.

There was an alleyway which she knew led directly to the brothels of Holy Ground. She had been warned to avoid this area at night. But now, as she considered it, she knew how easy it _could_ be for a woman to get lost at Holy Ground. So, as soon as they were beside it, she darted into the alley.

“Hey!”

She could hear the Rangers behind her, swearing and shouting. She had never been down this alley before, but she found it easy to slip past the soldiers and women who were loitering in the alley. Even with her layers of skirts, she was still quicker than the Rangers, who were carrying pounds of weapons.

She was panting, and her heart was pounding, and she could feel the adrenaline coursing through her. She was completely panicked, but she had to keep her head.

As soon as she reached the end of the alley, she darted left and was met by a series of tents, blocking her path. She cursed under her breath and darted right once more, running along the front of the tents. She could hear nothing but laughs and shouts and unintelligible conversation. It was just like she was back at the tavern.

Once she reached the end of the row of tents, she ran into a group of people. She pushed passed them, but that slowed her pace, and she found herself swearing aloud. She was still struggling through them, but she could see the end of the crowd in sight. She could see the next section of the area in front of her. The next street.

She yelped when she felt someone grasp her forearm. She cried out and turned to face her assailant. It was one of the Rangers. They had caught up to her. She swore aloud again. She hadn’t been in a proper fistfight since she was twelve years old. But in that moment, her old memories came flooding back.

She struggled for a moment, then she let the man pulled her closer, and as he did so, she punched him in the jaw. He cursed, but his grip was still firm. That’s when she kicked him in the knee. He continued cursing, but his grip loosened, and she was able to wiggle free. She turned back to face the crowd, but it was just as closely packed as before.

“Move! Move!” she shouted, her voice becoming hoarse.

And they were moving, but not fast enough, because the Ranger recovered, and he reached out and she felt his arms wrap around her waist and pick her up.

“No!”

She kicked and fought, but she wasn’t facing him, and she couldn’t properly reach him to do anything. So she went limp. The man half fell with her, and she was able to slip away from him again. But when she looked up, the second Ranger was there.

And, the last thing she remembered, the second Ranger was swinging the butt of his musket towards her. And then everything went black.

* * *

Half an hour passed. Simcoe had stopped his musings long ago, and Caleb had decided to keep his mouth shut. So he found himself watching Simcoe help himself to another glass of whiskey. _I’m the one who could use a drink_. He thought.

He had no idea what Simcoe was planning. But a part of him hoped that the entire conversation involving Molly and Culper was just a ruse to get him to confess to something. He wouldn’t put it past Simcoe to do something like that.

They both turned their heads when the door opened. In walked two of Simcoe’s Rangers, and between them they were dragging a body. Caleb’s eyebrows knitted together as he watched them. They dropped the body in a heap on the ground. And that’s when Caleb felt his blood run cold. The unconscious form was nonother than Molly Strong.

_Shite._

“Took you long enough. What happened?” Simcoe asked.

“Seems you may be right about her. She put up quite a fight.” The first Ranger explained.

The second one chuckled, “Not that it did any good.”

Simcoe dismissed them and then it was just the three of them in the room. Just like how Caleb had been awakened, Simcoe procured another bucket of water and dumped it on Molly’s unconscious form.

She jolted awake, gasping for air, trying to wipe the water from her eyes. She had a red spot on her forehead, from where she had been hit. It hadn’t started to bruise yet. She looked around frantically but froze when she caught sight of Caleb.

“Ms. Strong, I must say, it’s a pleasure to see you.” Simcoe gloated. “Mr. Brewster and I were just discussing you.”

She turned to look up at him. Caleb saw she was visibly shaking. And suddenly, he found himself afraid for her.

“What am I doing here?” she gasped.

Simcoe shrugged from where he was still standing beside the desk. He absentmindedly flipped through some of the papers on the desk.

“I know you’re Culper.” He said. There’s no use denying it.”

Molly shot Caleb a look, and it was one of pure confusion.

“What? What are you talking about?” she asked.

Simcoe stepped closer to where she was, and she pulled her knees to her chest, beginning to crawl backwards away from him.

“It was a clever ploy, using the name Samuel Culper.” He said. “No one ever would have suspected that a woman would. But it all makes sense. Your connection to Brewster and Tallmadge. The fact that your brother returned with them in an attempt to recapture your hometown. But you remained behind.

I remember reading the reports. Your sister-in-law clearly disapproves of your involvement. Why else would she leap from a whaleboat to freedom? But there was you. You never got on a boat. You remained in town.

As for your fiancé, I would not put it past Tallmadge to involve his fiancée somehow. You played me for the fool. Acting as if you had called things off.”

She had crawled so far away that her back was now pressed against one of the walls. Despite everything that had happened, when she spoke, her voice was firm.

“You’re wrong.” She said. “I’m not Culper. I’ve never even known anyone by that name.”

“Oh really?” He moved from his place looming over her to stooping down beside her. “Then where were you when you fled Setauket?”

She was hesitant to respond.

“What?”

“Where is MacInnis?”

“What? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She swallowed, her voice cracking. “I have always proven myself loyal to the Crown.”

Simcoe laughed aloud at that comment.

“I’ve spent enough time pretending to believe you.” he snapped. “Now I know you did not travel to York City when you fled Setauket.”

Molly internally swore. She had wondered if this might happen. Simcoe had made inquiries about her time in York City. And there was no way to account for an entire year. The entire year missing from her supposed alibi of living in York City.

“You fled at the same time MacInnis and Tanner disappeared. I know you ran off with him. Where is MacInnis?” Simcoe demanded.

“I don’t know.” She said again. “Even if I did, why do you care?”

“One of my men has the nerve to desert the Queen’s Rangers. I wish to see him punished. Now where is MacInnis?”

“I don’t–”

He cut her off, “Exactly! If you did not run off from Setauket with MacInnis, then there is no other explanation. You are Culper. You used your connections to the Quakers in Oyster Bay to provide an alibi for your place in the city. Why else would you seek Mr. Townsend’s friendship? You did so to eavesdrop on officers in His Majesty’s Army. You _are_ Culper!”

“I am not!” she hissed.

Caleb was relieved to hear her say it. He wasn’t sure if she was aware of the significance of a confession. But as long as she didn’t say anything, she would avoid execution.

* * *

_It’s over. I don’t know… Is it really over?_

She shook off the feeling, still too frightened by Simcoe. She was still in the floor with her back pressed against the wall. And Simcoe was still stooping down beside her, taunting her.

Her head was throbbing from where she’d been hit. But, despite that, her hands were unbound, and she was still mostly free. And she decided that she would try to fight her way out.

Simcoe had leaned in closer, but he had used this technique on her before. She knew he was trying to intimidate her. She lowered her head and widened her eyes, pretending to succumb to it. And as soon as he was close enough to her, she lifted her chin and spit in his eyes. Much to her dismay, he hardly flinched, but it worked nonetheless, because he was forced to close his eyes, and that’s when she lashed out.

She pushed herself forward and tackled him off his feet. Now she was the one looming over him, and she punched him in the face. And she was struggling to hide the smile spreading across her face. She had wanted to do that for a long time.

But her victory was short lived. It didn’t matter that she had surprised him or that she was the one looming over him now. It didn’t change the fact that Simcoe was nearly a head taller than her, and that gave him all the advantage he needed. In one fluid motion, he shoved her to the side.

She was hurrying to push herself to her feet, but he beat her to it, and that’s when he firmly kicked her in the stomach. All the air was knocked out of her and she doubled over in pain.

She suddenly remembered why she hadn’t properly fought anyone since she was twelve years old. It was no fun to fight when you weren’t evenly matched, and at twelve, plenty of the boys she had fought were already growing taller than her, and she was at the disadvantage.

But Simcoe wasn’t satisfied to leave it at that.

“Bitch.” he hissed.

When she was doubled over in pain, he landed another kick to her abdomen, and she collapsed back on the ground this time. She was still out of breath from the first blow. She tried to crawl away, back to her place against the wall, but it was too late to feign innocence.

She could hear Caleb shouting from the other side of the room.

“Leave her alone!”

But Simcoe ignored him, and he continued to kick Molly where she was on the ground. Again and again, his heavy boot came into contact with her abdomen and chest and waist. There was no way for her to get to her feet because his blows were relentless.

Finally, she tried to curl up into a protective ball, but she was also scared to hug her arms to her torso now. She knew if she brought them there, then those would be kicked as well. And she didn’t even want to consider the pain that would come with a broken arm at a time like this.

So she laid there, with tears streaming down her face, and she took the beating. Still listening to Caleb’s protests, and trying hard not to yelp herself. And she did so until darkness took her again.

* * *

“You f– bastard!” Caleb spat.

Molly had been unconscious for some time now, and Simcoe had dragged her body over to one of the chairs and was now restraining her in the same manner as Caleb was. It didn’t matter how much Caleb struggling against his restraints. He couldn’t break free from them.

Simcoe ignored his comments and continued his work.

Caleb looked passed him and stared at Molly. She was half slumped forward, with her head loosely resting on her shoulder. Her nose was bleeding and her lip was split. And he couldn’t imagine the bruising she was going to have from the beating. Simcoe had beat her worse than he had beat Caleb. Once she was fully tied, Simcoe turned back to face Caleb. The two men glared at each other.

“So _that_ was her famous temper I’ve heard of.” He laughed mockingly. “I must say, I expected more.”

Simcoe wasted no more time with delays or pleasantries. He retrieved his bayonet from where he had it laying on the desk.

“Now that my suspicions are confirmed–”

“ _Confirmed_? She didn’t tell you shite!” Caleb scoffed.

Simcoe shrugged.

“Oh, she will. When she awakens and discovers what I have done to her _friend_... And what I am going to do to her.”

With that, he approached Caleb, the bayonet held firmly in his hand.

* * *

“Ms. Culper… Ms. Culper.”

Molly wished she could stay asleep, but that voice kept trying to drag her back to consciousness. And the closer she came to it, the more pain she felt.

“Ms. Culper.”

She finally cracked open her eyes and groaned in discomfort as she became aware of the damage from her beating.

Everything ached. And she was suddenly aware of the fact that she was struggling to catch her breath. She coughed slightly, and a chunk of phlegm rose from her throat. She spit it to the side. She could taste blood.

She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, and then repeatedly blinked as she regained consciousness. In front of her was Simcoe. He was leaning down, so that they were face-to-face. He had removed his coat, and she could see that his hands were stained with blood.

“Welcome back, Ms. Culper.” He said. Molly wondered if it was possible that his voice had become more annoying during her unconsciousness.

He continued, “You’re just in time to see the main attraction.”

He stepped away from her and went over to the chair across from her. The chair where Caleb was still sat.

She gasped aloud when she saw what had happened in her absence. Caleb’s shirt was half ripped off, and his chest was littered with a series of long, thin slashes. Each was bleeding profusely. But then she noticed that he was also some sort of granular substance. She had no idea what it was.

“What have you done?” she croaked. And then a series of coughs wracked her form.

She was still recovering when Simcoe stepped to the desk and reached into a bowl that sat there. It was a bowl full of salt.

“I want you to see this part, Ms. Culper. For I want to see your reaction.” He said coldly.

With that he took the salt from his hand and rubbed it into one of the wounds on Caleb’s chest. He was literally rubbing salt into his wounds.

Molly visibly winced for her friend. He groaned and his face contorted in pain, but he refused to cry out. Simcoe leaned down close to his ear as he continued pressing the salt into the wounds.

“Why not let yourself scream?” He feigned concern. “A beast has no shame in howling if it’s wounded. Or you could just make it stop by confessing to what I already know and sign the paper.”

Caleb glared in response and spit in his face.

“Stop!” Molly coughed again. “Why are you doing this?”

She gasped for breath. The exertion from yelling was causing her chest to burn. She had no idea why it was burning.

Simcoe ignored her. He lifted his bayonet and sliced into Caleb’s chest again, and then he shoved salt into that cut as well.

“I’m impressed.” He commented. “Most men would have begged for mercy by now.”

“The only one who’ll be begging for mercy is you.” Caleb was out of breath. “You and all the redcoats. Begging and wishing you never left home.”

The Colonel cackled at that. “ _Home_? Home. You know, I realize that we’ve been at this all night and all morning…”

 _Morning_. Molly thought. _How long was I out_?

He walked over behind Molly and poured himself a drink. “…and I’ve been no more forthcoming than you. It might surprise you to know… that I wasn’t born in England. Never actually set foot on her.”

Molly and Caleb made eye contact. They both had no words, but their expressions said everything. They knew this was probably the end.

“This is the part where you say ‘ _so, where were you born, John?_ ’ if only to give yourself a little breather.” He grinned at Caleb, “You’re asking with your eyes, I can tell.” And he told them regardless. “So, here’s the answer. I was born in India. My father was a surgeon at Fort William. And I grew up watching him minister to the poor mongrels of Bengal. Only at age ten, to see them turn on him, and throw him in a tiny cell designed to hold three men… They put him in with sixty.” He shrugged, “‘Black Hole of Calcutta’, they called it. Now, here was a man, whose job it was to dispense mercy, killed by the merciless he sought to save.”

Simcoe had his bayonet again. And he walked across the room so that he was standing behind Caleb now.

“Well, at least he didn’t have to see you grow up.” Caleb hissed. “That was a mercy.” He grunted in pain again as Simcoe sliced into his back. He was shaking from the pain.

Simcoe placed a hand on Caleb’s shoulder. “Mercy is weakness. Strength is truth.”

“You’re wrong.” Molly rasped, spitting another chunk of phlegm onto the ground.

Simcoe turned to look at her, he was half scowling, half grinning.

“Oh! She speaks!” He scoffed. “What am I wrong about? About mercy? Please. I do not need a lesson in mercy from the likes of you.

She narrowed her eyes.

“I know you.” He declared. “You know, Ms. _Culper_ , for living in the same place your entire life, you did not leave behind a very good impression. The stories your neighbors were willing to share with me. About that famous temper of yours. The trouble you caused.

“I was a child!” she spat.

“Yes, you were. You still are. But it doesn’t matter. Where was the mercy in that?”

He picked up his glass again and took another drink. Then he continued.

“…As I was saying: Mercy is weakness. Strength is truth. Those are the lessons of Calcutta. Lessons I’ve been teaching to the colonists ever since. As a member of the Royal Army, in Guyana or the Caribbean. And now here in New York with you. So, you see, Caleb, I am home.”

Caleb feigned a smile, but Molly knew he must be in excruciating pain. But that was the thing about Caleb. He was forever the optimist.

Ever since they were children, it never mattered how bleak the situation was, or how extreme their punishments may be. He was always the first one to look on the bright side of things. While she had always loved that about him, this time, it was different. The stakes were real this time. And his optimism only made her more somber.

“You keep yapping… and I may scream.” Caleb was trying to keep his voice steady.

“Each man is driven by something. Now I remember…” Simcoe walked over to the fireplace and he placed the bayonet into the coals. “…watching your uncle shake with palsy at the trial. Remember?” Simcoe mimicked Lucas Brewster’s tremors. “That sort of thing runs in the family, doesn’t it?”

Molly growled in frustration, struggling against her bonds now. She hated nothing more than when people teased Caleb about his family. Palsy was a disease that ran in his family. Caleb was fortunate. He was one of the few Brewsters who did not suffer from the tremors. But his uncle had it, and his half-sister had it, and his mother had had it.

Molly remembered the first time she had seen the other children teasing Caleb about the condition. Although she hardly knew him then, he was Selah’s friend. So, in her mind, watching them mock Caleb made her feel as if they were mocking Selah as well. And she refused to stand for that. That was the first time she had ever hit one of her peers. And she and Caleb had been friends ever since.

“You know,” Simcoe took another drink. He still had a cocky smirk on his face. “I may hate weakness, but you fear it. You’ve been running from it all your life... Now you know who I am. And I know who you are.”

“All I know is I’m looking at a dead man.” Caleb said quietly.

“If you think your friends will come for you, they won’t.”

“Oh, it don’t matter. I know they’ll kill you, and that’s as good as me doing it.” Caleb chuckled.

“I learned other things in India, things I’m eager to share with you.”

Simcoe abandoned him and walked back to the fireplace. He held a rag in his hand, and used it to pick up the bayonet from where it laid in the coals. The blade was now orange.

“Today … tonight… or even tomorrow if it comes to that. I’m in no hurry.” Simcoe was looking at Molly now, and she felt the blood drain from her face when she realized what he intended to do.

“Perhaps I have been too kind to our guest?” Simcoe mused. “ _You’ve_ always acted to fragile, Molly.”

She hated it when he said her name.

“Always so eager to please. But now that we all know that that is a mere façade. Perhaps we should see how fragile you truly are?” He was approaching her now.

“No!” Caleb shouted.

Simcoe froze, and turned to look at the other man. Molly shot him a look.

“I’ll take it. I’ll take all of it.” He declared.

“Caleb! Stop.” Molly snapped.

But he shook his head.

“I will. Whatever you intend to do to her, do to me. I’ll take it.”

“What are you doing?” Her voice was strained.

Simcoe looked between them briefly, then he laughed aloud.

“Oh, now this is intriguing.” He chuckled. “I did not expect _this_ further development.” He turned back to Molly. “Do you know _why_ he’d sacrifice himself?”

She didn’t know what he was talking about, so she didn’t say anything.

“Oh, I remember when I was making inquiries about you… both of you.” Simcoe explained. “Your neighbors may be loyalists, but they have little regard for their own. And they certainly have no loyalty for the two of you. I remember what… what’s her name? Oh, yes, Mrs. Scudders… When I asked that woman about your standing in Setauket, she told me it was always a wonder that _you_ ,” he looked at Molly, “were intended to be a _Tallmadge_ , and not a _Brewster_.” He looked over at Caleb as he said it.

Molly glanced over at Caleb, but he was averting his eyes. Refusing to meet her gaze.

Simcoe went on, “Curious, isn’t it Molly? Is it because you were playmates as children? Certainly, if you believe that, then you are more naïve than I thought.” He chuckled darkly again. “No, look at him. Do you know why he’d sacrifice himself for you?”

She honestly didn’t know what to say, so she said the first thing that came to her mind.

“He’s like a brother to me.”

“Yes, and I can assure you that you are anything _but_ a sister to him.” He turned to looked back at Caleb “Am I right, Mr. Brewster?”

Caleb still refused to meet her gaze, and he didn’t deny Simcoe’s accusation. And that’s when Molly knew it was true. Her face became hot, and she could feel herself blushing. _Shit_. She thought.

Simcoe was beside Caleb now, but he looked at Molly as he spoke these words.

“Keep that in mind as I do this.”

With that, he pressed the orange metal to Caleb’s chest. As Caleb finally screamed in pain, Molly winced, feeling the hot tears streaming down her face. But there was nothing she could do. So, she closed her eyes, too horrified to watch. But she could still hear his screams.

“You see?” Simcoe taunted, sounding quite pleased with himself. “There’s no shame.”

* * *

Caleb had blacked out quite some time ago. As soon as he passed out, Simcoe resumed tormenting Molly.

He didn’t burn her like he did with Caleb. Instead, he waited for the bayonet to cool down. Then he proceeded to leave tiny cuts along her arms and chest and neck. They weren’t deep cuts. But they stung, and Molly was still covered in a sheen of perspiration, courtesy of the pain from her beating. And the sweat made all the cuts sting more and itch, and she couldn’t stop shaking. She felt as if she was going crazy.

But she had cried herself dry, and she was mentally exhausted from that. And she still refused to tell him anything. She had already made up her mind. She decided it was worth dying to protect the ring; to protect Ben.

Eventually, he got bored with her silence, so he was attempting to rouse Caleb once more.

“It’s rude to drift off in the middle of a conversation.” He said, trying to shake the other man awake. “Ah, you had another sleep again. it’s not bedtime yet. Caleb? It probably feels like it can’t get much worse. Come back. There you are.”

At that moment, the door burst open. Molly jumped more out of fear than surprise. She was expecting the worse, but there in the doorway stood Colonel Cooke and Benedict Arnold.

“Bastards! What do you think you’re doing?” Cooke ordered.

Simcoe turned quickly. But he looked just as surprised to see them.

“We’re in the middle of an interrogation, sir.” He explained.

Cooke and Arnold looked back and forth between Molly and Caleb. She had no idea what she looked like, but from the expression on their faces, they seemed just as horrified by her appearance as by Caleb’s.

“It’s outrageous. It’s outrageous.” Arnold muttered.

“Is this how you treat an officer?” Cooke gestured towards Caleb.

“He’s a smuggler and a spy.” Simcoe said.

“And I’m the Archbishop of Canterbury!” Cooke snapped. He turned to look at Molly now. “And why the hell is she here?”

“I have reason to believe she is a spy as well.”

Cooke scoffed, a look of disgust becoming clear on his face.

“I know this woman!” he declared. “She is no spy; she is a loyalist. She served me drinks at the Coffeehouse.” He shook his head, looking over at Caleb’s form again. “You better pray he can still be traded for the Woodhulls.”

Molly raised her eyebrows in surprise. It seemed that word of Caleb’s arrest was known. And now they were using Abe in some scheme to rescue him.

“Woodhulls?” Simcoe asked.

“That’s right. The rebel bastards have kidnapped Judge Woodhull and his son as payback.” Cooke tsked in disgust again. “Cut him loose!” he ordered. Get him cleaned up or you’ll be the one sitting in shit and piss.”

“Of course, sir. Right away, sir.”

Arnold began whispering to Cooke. “I’m sorry sir, the evidence seemed overwhelming.”

“Damn your evidence!”

Cooke stepped forward so that he was in front of Molly now.

“I am so sorry this has happened, Madame. Please, you have my word nothing like this will ever happen again.”

Despite everything, Molly was still trembling, “Colonel.” She gulped. “If… if it is not too much to ask, may I appeal to your kindness? And may I request that I be traded to the rebels along with the smuggler?” she asked. “I’m sorry, but I no longer feel protected in this city.” She looked at Simcoe warily, and she prayed that Cooke would be understanding.

He placed a hand on her own.

“Of course, ma’am.” He sighed and then shot a glare at Simcoe again. “I understand how one man’s ignorance can discourage our own kind… Do you have any family? Anyone that I can be of help to contact?”

She shook her head.

“No, sir. I am on my own in the city. If I am allowed to cross lines, then I pray I can settle in neutral territory, and attempt to contact them then.”

“Of course. I will see it done.” Cooke agreed. He turned back to look at Simcoe. “Release her immediately. And see to it that she is prepared to travel with the rebel.”

Simcoe bowed his head slightly. “Yes, sir.”

Cooke walked back to the door where Arnold was, and he began to quietly scold him. The two men stepped outside to talk. Once they were alone again, Simcoe looked over at Molly.

“Woodhull.” He repeated quietly. “Curious.”

Molly internally swore. She was grateful that Abe was helping Caleb escape capture, but she doubted he had expected Simcoe to be a part of this.

“So.” Simcoe smirked. “It was Woodhull all along.”

She averted her gaze. She had to admit, it was not too far of a leap to discover the truth. Especially after he had his sights set on her involvement.

“The nuisance. The weakling. The victim. The farmer with the _root cellar_.” Simcoe mused. He turned back to where Caleb was, and he grabbed him by the hair. Caleb’s head was bobbing up and down. He was in and out of consciousness.

“I’m afraid we must part company.” Simcoe said quietly. “But I must thank you, Caleb, For the names you gave me while in the twilight of pain. Woodhull will have plenty of company on the gallows.”

He released him and then got to work cutting away his bonds. As soon as Caleb was released, Simcoe let him fall to the ground with a hard _thud_. Molly winced at the sound. Then Simcoe was in front of her, cutting her free as well.

“You’re a f– bastard.” She hissed.

He shrugged, “Give my regards to your fiancé.”

He rose to his feet and left the room for a moment. She knew he would be back though.

Molly exhaled deeply and ran a hand through her hair. It had fallen loose during her beating, and she tried to push it out of her face now. She then tried to push herself out of her chair, but she quietly yelped in pain. The more she moved, the more everything ached. She was stiff from both the beating and from how long she had been tied to that chair.

She gritted her teeth and ended up on her hands and knees on the ground. And she crawled over to Caleb and held his head in her lap. He was still unconscious.

“Hey.” She whispered, slightly out of breath now. “We’re going to be okay.”

She was careful not to touch any of his wounds. He was desperately in need of a doctor. She was relieved that she was going back to camp. That _they_ were going back to camp.

But that didn’t stop the new worry that was gnawing at her. Because, even though there were going to be safe, Abe was now in danger.


	34. 4x03

The first thing Molly did upon being acquitted was request a quill and parchment. She wrote a brief resignation to the Lees, explaining that she could no longer work at the tavern. Then she wrote to Robert. She made sure to keep her message brief. She could fully explain later. All she said was that she was leaving the city, and she thanked him and Rivington for their kindness towards her.

Molly had no idea how many days had passed since they were rescued by Colonel Cooke. But she did know that days were passing. She knew that much by how many meals had been left for her. They were meager in size, and the food was mostly spoiled, hardly edible, but that didn’t bother her. She had spent most of the last few days sleeping. She was still exhausted, both mentally and physically, from what had happened.

It was dark in her cell, and she wasn’t allowed a candle, so she couldn’t fully examine herself. But she still ached. She was certain that bruises had begun to form where she had been beaten.

She hadn’t seen Caleb since the interrogation. She wasn’t allowed to see Caleb, but she knew that he was in another one of the cells down this same cellblock. She herself was only in a cell because she was going to be added to the prisoner exchange. This made it easier for when Arnold’s men came to collect her and Caleb. She didn’t know when that would be though.

No one fully explained what the exchange would be, but she figured it out from the bits and pieces she overheard. Shortly after Caleb’s arrest, Abe and his father had been “captured” by the rebels. They negotiated that the Woodhulls would be traded to Caleb and a ransom of £500. Molly suspected that the rebels didn’t want the British to know how valuable Caleb actually was. Hence, the ransom.

She was awakened from her most recent nap by the sound of her cell door opening. She turned her head, expecting to see a soldier carrying a bowl of food. But instead, there in the doorway stood three men in civilian clothes. One she knew to be the jailer. But she recognized another one of the men; it was Akinbode.

She blinked the sleepiness out of her eyes and groaned as she pushed herself into a sitting position.

“Come along, Miss. General said to send for you.” The jailer explained.

She nodded and the man helped her to her feet. Pressing a hand to her side, she followed them out of the cell and into the hallway. She was limping slightly.

She and Akinbode exchanged a look, but neither said anything. She didn’t know why he was here. But it was probably best that they didn’t admit to knowing each other. As they walked, a woman’s face appeared in one of the nearby cells.

“Please, please tell the warden that I know many officers in service.” The woman pleaded.

Molly jumped at the sudden voice, and the two women made eye contact.

“My name is Philomena Cheer. I even served the Crown with Major Andre! I can prove it. Please!”

Molly was sure if she was by herself, she would’ve stopped to speak with her. But that wasn’t the face. Akinbode gently nudged her to keep walking, and she complied.

She followed them to the end of the dimly lit hallway.

The second man, the only one she did not know stopped them before the jailer unlocked the next cell.

“Now, this one ain’t your typical smuggler.” The man warned. “He put a hatchet in one of my crew from twenty foot out. Don’t get sleepy on him.”

It was weird to hear the man speaking about Caleb like that. Molly knew that her friend had become skilled in using a hatchet during his time as a privateer. She never thought much of it. After all, as a dragoon, Ben used a sword.

The cell was unlocked, and the jailer ushered Akinbode and the other man inside. And there on the cot lay Caleb Brewster. The redcoats had supplied him with new clothes, but even in the lowlight, Molly could still make out the dark shape of dried blood on his chest. Molly remained in the hallway, waiting beside the jailer. She noticed Akinbode flinch when he caught sight of Caleb.

When Akinbode was one of Selah’s slaves, he rarely worked in Strong Manor. But he still recognized him from the frequent visits to the property.

“I thought you had seen combat.” The jailer commented, also noticing the flinch.

“I seen him.” Akinbode explained. “I know him.”

“Know him? How?”

“Tried to kill each other couple years back.”

Molly didn’t know anything about that. But she was sure it was possible that they had crossed paths when Akinbode was still a Ranger. The men said no more on the matter though. The man she didn’t know leaned down and picked up Caleb’s unconscious form, carrying him over his shoulder.

And then they were in the hallway again, and Molly fell into step beside Akinbode once more. And as they walked, she could still hear the woman, Philomena Cheer, making her pleas behind them.

* * *

They had not been traveling long, but the seas were rough, and Molly could already feel the bile rising in her throat. She gulped, trying to keep her seasickness at bay. Caleb was beside her. He was conscious now, but he had been suffering from seasickness the entire trip. It was ironic; the sailor, the privateer; seasick.

After leaving the prison, the jailer had handed them off to General Arnold. He didn’t say anymore to Molly or Caleb. He just gave the man – Molly learned his name was Parker – the ransom money, and then Parker and Akinbode were ordered to take them to the exchange.

They met a boatman and another man (whose name was Meig) by the docks. And for the last hour, they had been sailing through the rough seas of the Sound in a whaleboat. The exchange was to take place in Lyme, Connecticut. While Connecticut was rebel controlled, it was more neutral than anything else. That’s where privateers and other smugglers met on the London Trade.

The boatman and Akinbode had done most of the rowing. As for the other men, they hadn’t said much. Well, at least until now. Molly narrowed her eyes as the man Parker moved in the boat so that he was sitting across from her.

“You know,” the man grinned, “the General didn’t tell us why you’re to be exchanged to the rebels.”

She didn’t say anything. She knew it was best to keep her mouth shut.

“If they end up not wanting you, I wouldn’t complain…” the man reached out and put a hand on her clothed leg.

She jerked away from his touch, and she was about to say something, but she never got the chance. Because Akinbode spoke up.

“Hey, leave her be. We don’t want to give the rebels reason to cause us trouble.”

Parker rolled his eyes, but he didn’t argue with him. Molly tried to make eye contact with Akinbode, to at least show her gratitude. But he refused to meet her gaze.

The boat continued to lurk the passengers back and forth as they continued on their way.

* * *

**Lyme, Connecticut**

“One, two, three!”

“One, two, three!”

Molly stood on the shore, arms crossed over her chest, eyes squinted as the wind tore at her hair and clothes. It was a short shoreline, and right beside it was woods. She watched the men pull the whaleboat to shore.

When it was secured, the men went and lifted Caleb from where he was still sat in the boat. He was conscious, but he wasn’t doing well. He was sick the entire trip, and Molly was almost certain that he hadn’t seen a doctor while they were in that jail. Akinbode helped get him on his feet, an he kept an arm around him, to steady him.

“I know you.” Caleb said groggily. It was the first time he had clearly seen Akinbode’s face. “You’re a Ranger.”

Parker, Meigs, and the boatman all exchanged a look.

“He just said you’re a Queen’s Ranger. Well that’s something you mention before you start trading men across the Sound.” Parker commented.

“Used to be with them, but not no more.” Akinbode explained.

The men seemed satisfied with the answer.

“Who you trading us for?” Caleb shouted over the wind.

“Some local magistrate and his son.” Parker said. “Woodhull.”

He motioned for Molly to come closer and she did so. She fell in line in the back of the party, beside Akinbode who continued to keep his arm around Caleb, helping him walk.

“Thank you.” She said barely above a whisper.

He didn’t respond.

“If I find Abigail on the rebel side, should I tell her to go to York City?”

She glanced over at him and he shrugged.

“Sure. Wouldn’t hurt. Let’s just hope once this is over, these bastards won’t try to kill me for being a Ranger.”

She didn’t like hearing that, but she didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing.

Parker led them into the trees. Once they got passed the first bunch of them, the terrain opened up, and Molly realized that the exchange was going to take place at a millhouse. As they got closer, she noticed that the trace – the canal or trench that connected millpond to the waterwheel in the millhouse – was dried up. That meant that the actual millpond must’ve dried up and the building had been abandoned. It explained the state of the property.

Parker raised a hand and their group stopped. There were two men standing beside the building. One of the men motioned to someone, and then two men exited the millhouse, leading two men in restraints.

 _Abe and his father_. Molly thought.

Parker nodded and they walked forward at the same time as the rebels. Both parties stopped when they were on opposite sides of the trace. They were using the canal as a barrier between them.

It was when they faced each other when Molly realized that one of the men was Benjamin Tallmadge.

He was wearing a hat that partially covered his face. They briefly made eye contact, but he didn’t say anything. She knew he was surprised to see her though. It seemed he hadn’t recognized her at first either. But she didn’t blame him. She knew she must look terrible; covered in bruises.

“Caleb?” Ben spoke up, noticing his friend’s dishevelment. “What have you done to him? Eh?”

Parker shrugged, “There weren’t no terms for his constitution, just that he was living.”

One of the men, who Molly recognized as her old neighbor Walter Havens – one of the men that fled Setauket when Simcoe was searching for rebels, when he had Lucas Brewster and Reverend Tallmadge arrested – pulled Abe back and pressed a knife to his throat.

“Well, I’m sure we can find a way to even it out.” Havens growled.

“No, no,” Ben said calmly, “there’ll be no blood for blood today.”

Havens lowered his knife.

“Who’s the woman?” Ben asked, pretending not to know her.

“Don’t know. We was just told to hand her over as well.” Parker chuckled, “If that’s acceptable, of course.”

“It is.”

A beat.

“You Judge Woodhull?” Parker was addressing Richard now. “Send him over.”

“Send the money.”

“Brewster for the one. The money and the woman for the other. You pick first trade.”

Richard and Abe both spoke up at the same time.

“I’ll go.”

“Me.” They volunteered.

They exchanged a look and Abe said again.

“Me.”

“The Judge.” Ben decided for them.

The man beside Richard cut the ropes binding his wrists, and then they made the slow trade of helping Richard and Caleb onto opposite sides of the trace.

“Now the son.” Parker said.

Molly noticed Akinbode shift beside her. She glanced over and saw him shoulder his musket.

“Something ain’t right.” He declared.

Parker shot Ben a glare. “You have any more friends here?”

“What?”

Akinbode shook his head. He was looking toward the surrounding woods.

“It ain’t them.”

 _If it wasn’t the redcoats or the rebels, then who… the Rangers._ The other men, on both sides, began drawing their own guns, and looked around. And that’s when they heard the first gunshot.

“Get down!” Richard tried to yell, but he didn’t get to finish. Because as he yelled, a bullet pierced his skull, and his blood splattered across Abe’s face.

Then two other men fell; Parker and one of Ben’s men. Before Molly could process what was happening, she felt Akinbode give her a shove. She cried out in surprise, as she fell, but then the falling didn’t stop. Then everything went black.

* * *

She awoke a few minutes later. She was on her back, staring up at the sky. But there were walls on either side of her. And that’s when she realized where she was. Akinbode had saved her by pushing her into the empty trace.

She quickly pushed herself into a sitting position, and that’s when she gasped aloud. A few feet away lay Richard Woodhull. She crawled over to him. Although the man had never been fond of her, she prayed he was still alive.

Once she was beside him, she saw the small red dot on his forehead; where the bullet had hit him. And his skin was pale, and his eyes were dull, just like MacInnis’ had been, and she knew he was dead.

There was no time to mourn the death of her friend’s father. She crawled away from him and got to her feet. She grimaced as she did so. There was a stabbing pain across her entire abdomen. She hunched over briefly and pressed a hand into her stomach. She knew it was just the bruising from her beating. The fall had caused a lot of them to begin aching again.

As she caught her breath, she listened for any sound of the Rangers or of the rebels above her. She heard men running, but their voices were too far away to make out. She quietly swore. She was helpless down here. She didn’t have a weapon, and she didn’t know who was alive and who was dead.

She looked both ways in the trace. If she ran away from the millhouse, she was sure that she wouldn’t get far. God knows how many Rangers were still out in the woods. But if she went towards the millhouse… There was a chance that the rebels had gone there to seek shelter.

So, she began to walk in the direction of the millhouse. Soon, she found herself directly under the waterwheel. She crawled inside of the wheel and began searching for a way out. Although she’d never been inside of a millhouse, she knew that there must be a ladder somewhere nearby. How else was the waterwheel to be repaired? She quickly found it and began to climb.

At the top of the ladder, there was a door. She pushed on it, but it didn’t budge. She swore. It was locked. She climbed higher on the ladder and tried to press her shoulder into it. While it did shake, it was still very much locked. She pouted and stared at the small trapdoor for a second. She shrugged. It couldn’t hurt to try. And she knocked.

A few seconds later, she heard movement above her, and the trapdoor burst open. She flinched when she saw two gun barrels aimed at her. She held up a hand in surrender. And that’s when the barrels vanished, and Ben’s face appeared above her.

“Molly?” he asked in disbelief.

“Aye, hello.” She stammered.

He laughed aloud and helped pull her through the trapdoor and into the main room of the millhouse. He put a hand on her cheek, and she could tell he was examining the bruises on her face.

“What the hell are you doing here? And what happened to you?”

She pushed his hand away.

“I’ll tell you later. Right now, I can’t believe I’m alive.”

He scoffed, “I’d say so. When we saw you fall, we assumed–”

“So did I.” she admitted.

“Stay down.” Ben ordered.

She nodded and took in the appearance of the room. All the inside window shutters were closed, but other than that, there was nothing unusual about the room. It was a standard millhouse layout.

As for who was in the room, on the ground were two corpses; Walter Havens with a gunshot wound in the head, and another rebel with a gunshot wound in the neck. He seemed to have bled out. Those who had survived included Caleb and Abe were both sat on the ground near each other. That just left Ben and the other man, Parker’s man Meigs.

She could hear Ben and Meigs talking behind her. She kept her head down as she made her way to where Caleb was sitting. He had a canteen in his hand and he groggily waved at her when she joined him.

“Nice to see you made it.” He weakly grinned. Although he was weak, he was much more awake than he was before.

“You as well. Are you alright?”

“I’ll live.”

“Abe?” she asked.

She looked over at him, expecting him to say something, but he didn’t. He was staring straight ahead, a blank expression on his face. She knew he was thinking about his father. His father’s blood was still splattered across his face.

There was a small commotion behind her, and she turned and saw Ben pacing around the room. He kept peering out one of the windows and then closing them once more.

“They’re gonna try to burn us out.” He said as he ducked his head down once more. “All right, we have to – we have to mount a sortie.”

He walked back over where the trapdoor was.

“We need to try to find a way to surprise them, try to take out as many as we can while we still have a chance.” He looked down at the ladder Molly had just climbed. “This leads to the trace.” He was thinking out loud now.

“An escape?” Meigs asked.

“No.” Molly spoke up. “I thought of that too. But I don’t know how many of them are out there.”

Ben nodded, “But at least this is a way for one of us to get behind them, create a flank or some kind of distraction at least.”

Abe rose from his spot. He was taking his coat off.

“I’m going.” He declared.

Ben held out a hand. “Abe, Abe, no.”

“I’ll wait for your signal, then I’ll draw their fire towards me.”

He retrieved one of the pistols from Havens’ corpse, and then one from the other deceased rebel.

“Abe, you’re in no condition—”

“It won’t matter.” Meigs broke in, trying to stop Abe as well. “There’s still ten of them, five of us.”

“Seven.”

They all paused and turned to look at Caleb, who had just spoken up.

He gestured towards the two corpses. “There’s seven of us.”

Ben, Miegs, and Abe all exchanged a look, and then they rushed to the center of the room and started dragging the two bodies upright. Molly quickly understood what they intended to do, and she got to her feet again and retrieved some spare rope that still hung from the gears overhead.

Together, they tied the corpses together and used the gears above to hold them so that they appeared to be standing upright. And they positioned them so that they were in front of the entrance to the millhouse.

“Come on hurry, he’s waiting for the signal.” Ben said.

While they finished securing the bodies, Abe was to go to the trace and await their signal. Then, as they stormed out of the millhouse and distracted the Rangers, he would shoot who he could from behind.

“Are you still a bad shot?” Ben asked, handing Molly a pistol.

“Aye. It’s been awhile.”

“Well, this time, don’t miss.”

They looked at each other for a second, and she knew he was thinking the same thing. This could be the end of one or both of them. Neither of them dwelled on the subject much longer. Because then Molly went to help Caleb get to his feet.

“Do you already have a gun?” she asked.

He shook his head, “Nope. But I found this.” He held up a small hatchet he had found stashed somewhere in the room.

It would have to do. They only had so many guns. And each of the guns would only give them one shot. There would be no time for reloading. And they were all praying the same would be true for the Rangers.

“He must be in position now, eh?” Ben and Caleb were quietly talking to each other.

Ben kept nervously checking the powder in his gun. “You ready?”

“Always.”

“All right, come on.”

Miegs motioned for Molly to come closer to the entrance. She did so, and the four of them stood there. They wordlessly looked at each other, and then Ben nodded.

Miegs pulled the rope they had attached to the door, and they all made sure they were out of the way. When the door swung open, they heard the Rangers yell orders outside, and then they heard gunfire. Just like they planned, the bullets hit the corpses in the doorframe.

Then they heard two single shots. _Abe_. Ben and Miegs pushed passed the corpses and rushed outside to meet the Rangers, Caleb and Molly on their heels. Ben fired his pistol and hit one of the Rangers, then he produced a knife from his coat and went to meet another man head on.

Miegs tried to fire his musket, but his powder didn’t ignite. He growled in frustration and threw his gun to the side. But as he did so, the Ranger he was facing surged forward and stabbed him with his bayonet.

As Miegs fell, Caleb threw his hatchet at the Ranger, but he missed, and now the Ranger was charging towards Caleb. He pushed him to the ground with his musket and then the Ranger lifted his bayonet, intending to stab Caleb. Molly hurriedly aimed her pistol, and she fired. She swore aloud. She missed.

But then Ben was there.

“No!”

He grabbed the Ranger from behind and stabbed him in the kidney. The Ranger fell, and then they heard the other Rangers getting closer. They had only killed four of the ten. And that’s when they heard more gunfire.

All three of them pressed themselves to the ground. But they quickly realized that the shots were not aimed at them. Someone was in the woods, firing upon the remaining Rangers. But who would be doing that?

 _Akinbode_. Molly thought briefly.

They heard men shouting orders from around the corner of the millhouse.

“Retreat! Retreat!”

Molly looked up just in time to see Abe crawling out of the trace and chasing after one of the Rangers, towards the shore.

“Abe? Abe!” she shouted.

But he ignored her. She considered running after him, but then Ben was beside her, pulling her to her feet. He had already pulled Caleb to his feet as well.

“Come on.” He urged. “Back inside!”

She let him pull her back inside the millhouse, and then the three of them began reloading their guns.

“Who the hell was firing from the woods?” Ben was still slightly out of breath.

“Do you remember Selah’s slave Jordan?” Molly asked.

“Yeah, the one who went and became a Ranger.” Caleb nodded. “I recognized him.”

“It was him.” She was sure of that. “He deserted the Rangers over a year ago. He’s the one who pushed me into the trace. He saved me.”

Ben paused and she could see he was struggling to process the information.

“What are the Rangers doing here anyway? Did _he_ bring them?”

Molly and Caleb glanced at each other. They both knew very well _who_ would’ve sent the Rangers after them. And they had Ben’s full attention now.

“You wanna know what happened to us in New York?” Caleb asked.

“Simcoe.” She said.

Ben started swearing.

* * *

Ben briefly patrolled the woods as soon as all their guns were reloaded. But it turned out, when the Rangers called for the retreat, they _did_ flee.

The rebels who survived the attack were Ben, Caleb, Abe, and Molly. They found Abe half-conscious on the beach. Abe explained he was chasing after the Ranger who had stolen the ransom money, the £500. His gun misfired though, and they were forced to fight. The Ranger would’ve killed him, if not for Akinbode. He killed the Ranger, stole the £500, and fled. But he saved Abe’s life too. He had saved all of them.

They were all squeezed into a wagon now. It was the wagon the rebels had brought to the millpond. Ben and Ave retrieved Richard Woodhull’s body from the trace. The corpse was laid out in the back of the wagon. Abe laid beside his father. He was still groggy from the fight, and the shock of his father’s death. Caleb sat beside them, half asleep as well. Ben was in the front, driving the horses, and Molly was sat beside him.

Her head was throbbing, and her abdomen still ached, but it was nice to be with him again. She leaned part of her weight on him as he drove. When they talked, it was in hushed voices.

“How did you get roped into the exchange?” He had a lot of questions, and she didn’t blame him.

She told him about how Simcoe had tortured Caleb and then thought that _she_ might be Samuel Culper. When she talked about the name Culper, she knew she was forgetting to mention something. But her head was hurting so bad at that point, she decided to ignore it for now. She could tell him later when she remembered.

“All’s not lost though.” Her eyes were closed and she was leaned forward, resting her head in her hands. “Townsend is back in.”

“Aye, we saw his post in _the Gazette_.” A beat. “Was that _you_? I know Caleb said you went to the city to secure our man in New York.”

“No.” she admitted. “He did it on his own accord. I don’t know why, but…”

She broke into a coughing fit. She hadn’t had one of those in a few days. But now she was beginning to feel just as dreadful as when she had first received her beating. She coughed into the sleeve of her dress, but when she pulled her hand away, it was stained with speckles of blood.

Ben swore upon seeing it as well.

“We’ll get to camp by tomorrow morning.” He promised. “Then I’ll see that you and Caleb get to a doctor.”

She nodded and crossed her arms. Her teeth were chattering. Although it was summer, they were traveling farther north, and the sky was overcast. It was noticeably colder here than in the city or traveling across the Sound.

“Hey, you alright?” he asked, wrapping an arm around her.

She moved closer to him. He was warm, but she couldn’t stop shivering. They didn’t talk for long after that, and she fell asleep leaning against him.


	35. 4x04

Molly squirmed uncomfortably under the doctor’s touch.

They had made it to the Continental Army’s camp in New Windsor hours ago. As soon as they arrived, Molly and Caleb were brought to the medical tent. Ben said he’d be back soon; he had to find a place for Abe to stay, and a place for them to place Judge Woodhull’s corpse.

One of the other doctors was examining Caleb’s wounds on the other side of the tent. As for Molly, she was the only female patient in the tent. The doctor moved two of the fabric screens around her bed to give her privacy.

She was on her back, with her dress pulled half down so that her torso was completely bare. As soon as it was removed, she looked down at herself. She hadn’t had a chance to examine her injuries in the light.

Her abdomen was littered with large purplish-green bruises. That wasn’t what surprised her though. Her ribcage was covered in splotchy red marks. It almost looks as if she’d been scratched repeatedly. But the skin was still closed. Whatever it was, the coloring was coming from under her skin.

The doctor had her lay back again, and then he began to apply pressure to the area around her ribcage. She whined in discomfort. He did this for several minutes, and he kept asking her to describe the pain she was feeling. She really didn’t know how else to describe it; her torso ached.

“Just as it looks then.” The man finally said, “Broken ribs. Not sure how many, but I’d say at least two on each side. Possibly more.”

“And that’s all there is?” she asked.

“Well that and the broken nose.”

She hadn’t looked in a mirror since her arrest. And she didn’t even consider that her nose was broken. But that did explain the headaches she had been having.

He nodded. “Yes. I say, you’ll be good as new in a few weeks. Maybe a month.”

She closed her eyes and silently thanked God. This explained her labored breathing and the coughing fits. Broken ribs could be incredibly painful, but it was nothing serious. If anything, it would be more of an annoyance until she was fully recovered.

As for the blood she had coughed up earlier, the doctor explained that she had several wounds inside her mouth, probably from where she had been kicked in the head; where her teeth broke the skin. Those had simply reopened. She knew the real reason why they had reopened. Whenever she was nervous or whenever she was deep in thought, she always chewed on the inside of her cheeks, or on her lips. So much happened at the millhouse, she doubted she would’ve noticed the taste of blood anyway.

She lifted her arms and allowed the doctor to wrap dressings around her ribcage. It wouldn’t do much beside provide protection to the injured area, but she was grateful, nonetheless. Once he was done, she pulled her dress back up, but she left her corset off. Although it was winter, all the prodding from the doctor had made her break out into a cold sweat, and she was so tired of sweating. She had done enough of that already, and the small cuts on her arms and chest were still healing, the sweat was making her skin itch.

Then the doctor got to work on her nose. Her nose had already started to heal, so the doctor told her than he was going to rebreak it and then set it so that it healed more evenly. She didn’t like that idea, but she let him do it anyway.

The rebreak was quick, but the pain was excruciating. It felt as if someone was stabbing her. She had her hands clenched into fists, pulling at her skirts, to keep them out of the doctor’s way. He stuffed her nostrils with gauze.

“I’ll change these in a few hours.” He reassured her. “They’re just to help your nose keep its shape as it heals.”

He left her and returned a few moments later with a small bottle and a spoon. It was a bottle of laudanum – a mixture of opium and alcohol. She’d taken the painkiller before.

“I don’t think you’ll need to take this for very long, but I’ll give you something for the pain.”

When she was younger, she had challenged Caleb to a tree climbing race. She won, but only by default. She climbed the highest and then proceeded to lose her balance and fall out of the tree. Caleb stopped climbing to help her.

She dislocated her kneecap. When the local doctor arrived, he popped it back into place. It really wasn’t a serious injury. But it hurt like hell. He gave her laudanum to help her sleep.

She swallowed another spoonful of it now. It didn’t take long for her brain to feel fuzzy. She always said that taking laudanum was the fastest way to get drunk. She fell asleep not long after that.

* * *

She remembered coming in and out of consciousness for the next day or so. The first time she opened her eyes, Anna was sitting in a chair beside her bed.

“Ann?” She croaked.

Her sister-in-law was on her feet and hovering over her in an instant. Anna took her hand.

“Oh, my word, it’s good to see you. Ben told me what happened. Did Jordan really save you?”

Molly hummed in response. She was having a hard time focusing on anything. Her head was still foggy from the laudanum. And suddenly it felt like the room was spinning, so she closed her eyes.

“How’s Caleb?”

“He’s well. I actually talked to him a short while ago. The doctor says his wounds are not too serious.”

Molly was relieved to hear that.

“How’s Abe?”

Anna paused before answering.

“Not so well.” She was speaking quieter now. “Ben doesn’t want anyone to know he’s in camp. He’s staying in the barn nearby.”

“And what of the Judge?”

“What of him?”

“Has Abe decided what he’s going to do with the body?” She cracked open her eyes again. Anna seemed confused by the question though. “Well, Abe is staying _here_ , isn’t he? Or does he really intend to traipse back home.”

Anna exhaled slowly and looked away for a second.

“I don’t know what he intends. But I imagine he’ll want to bury his father back home. Besides, he won’t just abandon Mary and Thomas like that. If he decides to come here, he’ll have to go home to sort things out with them.”

Molly agreed. They said a few more things, but then Molly felt her eyes become heavy, and she fell back to sleep.

* * *

The next time she awoke, Ben was sitting beside her bed. She turned her head slightly to glance over at him. He was hunched over a journal, scribbling away. He perked up when he noticed she was awake.

“Hey.” He smiled slightly and reached out to take her hand. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m alright.” She mumbled.

She coughed to clear her throat, but it didn’t help. Her throat was dry.

“The doctor told me about your ribs.”

“Oh, he didn’t mention my nose?” She deadpanned.

“Didn’t need to.” He deadpanned back before his face broke out into a lopsided grin.

She tried to smile too, but when she did, she sniffled slightly. She realized why her throat was so dry. There was still gauze shoved up both her nostrils. She winced and pressed a hand to the bridge of her nose. It was swollen.

“I’m glad you’re back.” He decided to say.

Ben had never been good at reunions. They were always strangely formal, and he found it awkward. Seeing Molly so injured only made him more uncomfortable. She had gotten into plenty of fights before, but she was never seriously hurt in those. Seeing her covered in so many bruises made him set his jaw and clench his fists.

He knew it changed nothing, but he blamed himself for this. He had wanted to go to the city himself; first when Molly was roped into going, and again when Caleb was captured. And each time, he allowed himself to be persuaded otherwise. Looking at her now, knowing that Simcoe did _this_ to her, to Caleb as well, infuriated him even more.

He also still felt bad for what happened at the millhouse. Truth be told, he hadn’t recognized her at first. He knew she did not fault him for it though. After all, she looked dreadful; sickly.

There was a purple splotch on her forehead – from where the Ranger had hit her in the head with the butt of his gun. As for her face, it was swollen. Her bottom lip was still healing from where it had split open, and there was a small bruise that had formed on her right cheek. But the most obvious injury was her nose. The doctor kept coming back to change the gauze every few hours. Her nose looked almost normal, but it was also slightly off. The bridge of her nose was no longer straight. It slightly protruded now. Ben didn’t think it looked bad. It was just… different. And he hated to think that she would carry the scar for the rest of her life.

“I really don’t know what to say.” Her voice was raspy. “I suppose I was the stupid one. I could’ve left, but I didn’t, I—”

“No, no. Stop.” He set his journal to the side. He could finish the paperwork later. And he pulled his chair closer to her cot. “Don’t think about that now. We’ll talk about it when you’re better.”

She eyelids were still heavy, and he knew it was because she was still trying to come out of the sedative she’d been given. She was in no condition to talk. He suddenly wondered if this was how poorly he looked when she found him in the woods a year ago.

She didn’t stop there though. Because she whispered.

“I wrote to Townsend before I left. Have we gotten anymore word from him?”

“We did receive word from him. He wants to be involved, like you said…” he paused.

“What?”

“Well, Culper Jr. has gone ghost. We haven’t heard from him in weeks.”

Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

“What’s wrong with that? You didn’t hear from me for weeks either.”

He supposed they might as well talk about it now. After all, she seemed to want to.

“This time it’s different. When you were in the city, did you hear word about loyalists being arrested? About them being questioned for espionage?”

She nodded.

“Of course. That’s all Arnold’s doing. He’s _Spyhunter_ General now.” She rolled her eyes at the name.

Ben picked up his journal again and flipped to a new page. He began to scribble down notes.

“I wouldn’t take it to heart though.” She added as she watched his write. “The man is one of the most incompetent I’ve ever seen.”

Ben’s quill froze.

“What? You met him? In the city?”

She nodded, “And the best part, I was scared to death he would have me arrested. The bastard didn’t even recognize me… And he always gets peoples’ names wrong. I can’t tell you how many times he called me Ms. _Strange_ and Ms. _Song_.”

Ben sat there for a moment digesting the information.

“Well, it seems Arnold is more competent than you may think. He arrested nearly all our men in New Jersey and New York. And nearly all of them have not been released, and if they were acquitted, they have not made contact.”

Molly was fully sitting up now, troubled by the news. When she was Ben’s aide-de-camp, she remembered when she would process the reports from other spies. The Culper Ring itself was one of the largest – even though it was so small. All the other spies were working alone, sending off single reports whenever they had a chance.

She shook her head slowly, “I don’t understand, why are _we_ discussing this? Shouldn’t _I_ be reporting to the General?”

She saw him clench his jaw.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“It seems…” he inhaled sharply. “When you decided to go to York City, Caleb and I had to explain everything to Washington. And he was less than accepting of your decision… You’ve fallen out of favor with him.

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“That’s why it was so difficult to make contact with you in the city.”

She scoffed, “And what? He expected you to _abandon_ me in York City?”

Ben shushed her for her voice was rising. Then he looked away, and she knew it was true.

“Wha— After all I’ve done? But… But what about the information about Arnold? About West Point?”

“You weren’t the one who delivered it.” Ben admitted. “Anna was the one we snuck into the city. _She_ brought it back, and _she_ was supposed to bring you as well. Sending her only further endangered the ring, and Washington told me he cannot be so easy to forgive our mistakes.”

She was chewing on the inside of her cheek again. This time, she noticed the taste of blood.

“And, what? So he refuses to see me?” she asked.

“Yes. Something like that.”

Her head was beginning to hurt again. She grimaced and held her head in her hand.

“Hey, listen.”

He moved his hand do that it was on her arm. She glanced up at him.

“I’m sorry. I’ve talked to him about the matter for months. He was upset enough before. But after he learned of Arnold’s betrayal, he’s been on edge. A security breech like that…” Ben sighed. “It happened once. And he knows it could happen again.”

They sat there in silence for a moment.

“The only good thing is, you are still a vetted source. Whatever you tell me, I will directly tell to Washington. And whatever he tells me, I will share with you.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that against your orders? Since I’ve fallen out of favor with him?”

Ben shrugged, “Aye. It is.”

That comment made Molly smirk.

“Forget him, right?” she brushed it off. “Who needs him? I’d much rather talk with you.” She was grinning now. “What do you want to know about Arnold? I never served him drinks, but Townsend did, and he told me enough…”

“Later.” Ben replied. “Please. When you’re better. Besides, we probably shouldn’t talk here.”

She weakly nodded, and then changed the subject. She supposed it could wait a few hours.

“I talked to Anna. She said Caleb’s health is improving.”

“Aye. I saw him earlier. In fact, I’ll go get him. I know he’s wanted to check on you for some time.”

Ben rose to his feet and left her for a moment. Last he knew, Caleb had been moved to the adjacent medical tent. The soldiers who were nearer to recovery were sent there. But when he went to Caleb’s bed, Caleb wasn’t there.

Ben called to the nearest doctor.

“What’s become of Lieutenant Brewster? Has he been released?”

The doctor shook his head.

“No. The Lieutenant fled from the infirmary earlier today. Stole a horse. Scouts found him unconscious near the edge of the camp. He’s being looked after by Dr. Turner now.”

Ben swore. He had been busy with meetings and paperwork all day, and that evening he had spent all his time beside Molly’s bed. He hadn’t heard the news.

He knew which tent Dr. Turner worked out of, so he turned on his heels and went to find him.

* * *

“Moll.”

“Moll.”

“Wake up.”

Molly moaned as her eyes cracked open. As soon as Ben left her side, she had drifted off to sleep once more.

“What?” she asked groggily.

“It’s Caleb.”

He sounded concerned, so she pushed herself up, trying to blink the sleep from her eyes.

“Is he alright?”

“Aye… well, I don’t know. Apparently, he fled from the infirmary earlier today and stole a horse. Scouts found him unconscious near the edge of the camp. I just went to go see him. And he wants to talk.”

“To who? To us?” she yawned.

“ _All_ of us.”

* * *

Molly had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. It was the middle of the night, and she was cold.

She was following behind Ben and Caleb – Caleb was still limping, so Ben was helping him walk. The entire time they had been back together, Caleb hadn’t said a word to Molly. He seemed distant, in fact.

Not far from the infirmary was a barn the Patriots had commandeered. Ben told her that’s where Abe had been staying. Molly walked ahead to open the barn door for them, and they all slipped inside. There weren’t any animals inside. The army was using the barn as place to store hay and other miscellaneous supplies.

Abe and Anna were both over in one corner of the barn.

Molly felt nauseous when she saw what they were doing. They were salting Judge Woodhull’s body; preparing him to be transported back to Setauket. Although they had never gotten along, Molly had known the man her entire life. She didn’t want to see him like that.

“Caleb.” Anna said, the surprise evident in her voice. “Why is he up and about?”

“Because this can’t wait.” Caleb said.

Ben stood beside him; there in case Caleb needed someone to help him stand. Abe and Molly made eye contact, but neither said anything. It was strange seeing each other again; especially after they last parted on such harsh terms.

“You all right?” Abe walked over to Caleb.

Caleb cut right to the chase.

“Simcoe knows you’re Culper.”

 _Oh yeah_ , Molly thought tiredly, _that’s the thing I forgot to remember_.

Abe scoffed, “How?”

Caleb: “I told him.”

“No, you didn’t.” Ben jumped into the conversation.

“If I didn’t say it aloud, Ben, he got it from my silence. That’s how he went about arresting Moll.”

They hadn’t talked about the details of their individual arrests. In fact, they hadn’t talked about their questioning, their torture, either.

“Simcoe tortured him,” Ben explained to Abe, “tried to get him to sign a confession, which he _didn’t_.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Caleb scoffed, “He knows.”

“He’s right.” Molly spoke up.

They were all looking at her now.

“Simcoe thought _I_ was Culper.”

“Right.” Caleb nodded. “That’s why he arrested you.”

“And he thought that was it. He figured me and Caleb were working with Ben, and that was that. But then we received word that Caleb was to be traded for Abe and his father. That’s when he knew. He told me so himself.”

“Yeah,” Caleb agreed. “And that’s when he decided to do something about it.”

“Exactly.”

“Wait, what are you talking about?” Abe asked, his face a mask of confusion.

Molly and Caleb exchanged a look. They hadn’t told Abe who the men were that ambushed them. He was still in shock from his father’s death. Up until then, Abe assumed they were ambushed by skinners or cowboys. The only other person who knew the truth was Ben.

Caleb was the first one to explain, “Those bandits at Lyme, the ones who ambushed us…”

Abe was shaking his head, suddenly understanding what they meant.

“No.”

“…they were Rangers, Abe.”

“No, no, no.”

“It was Simcoe.”

Abe was pacing now, running a hand through his hair. They all watched him for a moment.

“Is it really so hard to believe?” Molly croaked.

He didn’t answer.

“Abe, look at me. Look at Caleb. _Simcoe_ did this to us. We may not have signed anything, but _Simcoe knows_. He knows me, Caleb, and Ben are all spies. And when he figured you were one too—”

“It’s my fault.” Caleb said.

Molly furrowed her eyebrows.

Ben: “Well, you said it yourself, Caleb, you didn’t sign anything. You never even said his name.”

“I don’t know what I said.”

“What do you mean?” Anna asked.

“I blacked out. I lost time.”

“No.” Molly broke in. “I was there too. You didn’t say anything.”

“You blacked out too. You were asleep for hours. What if I said something when you were out?”

“No…” But when she tried to think about that night, her memories were a little fizzy.

“When I came to, he thanked me.” Caleb scoffed. “That bastard thanked me.”

“Thanked you? What for?” Ben asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t remember a thing.” Caleb’s voice was strained now. “What if I gave up Townsend? What if I gave up Mary?”

Molly was adamantly shaking her head, but she honestly didn’t know. She was doubting her own memories now.

“We have to save her, Ben.” Caleb decided. He was talking about Mary. “We have to bring her here now! He could be on his way to Setauket!”

Anna: “No, no, no, no, Caleb, he doesn’t know. If you’d gave up Townsend, then we would have read about his hanging by now. And you never signed any papers, so he doesn’t have proof. Otherwise, why disguise his men at the mill?”

Ben nodded, “And why kill Tories alongside Patriots? Why not just take the money?” He paused, and when he spoke again, there was a hint of realization in his voice, “Cooke’s money, that’s why. This wasn’t sanctioned.”

“No,” Abe agreed, “it was vengeance.”

He had stopped his pacing. He continued.

“Tried to kill him at Rocky Point by plotting an ambush. Tried to kill him in Setauket by plotting a revolt. And each time… I trusted his killing to someone else. I am not gonna make that mistake again.”

Anna: “Abe.”

Molly: “And what do you propose we do? The Rangers are posted in York City.”

Abe shrugged, “Well then, I go to York city.”

Anna: “Then you’ll die. Simcoe is a veteran soldier, a killer protected by killers, surrounded by the British army on a fortress isle. You will die. He will laugh.”

Ben: “She’s right, I can’t let you—”

“Can’t _let_ me?” Abe interrupted.

Ben shook his head, trying to diffuse the tension.

“Washington will never approve it. There’s another mission being planned in York City. He won’t endanger that.”

“What mission?” Abe asked.

“It’s none of your concern.”

Abe rolled his eyes, but he quickly ignored the comment. Then he declared, “I am taking a horse and cart. And if Washington has something to say about it, he can come down here and stop me himself!”

Ben: “Abe, if you know—”

They all jumped. Someone was pounding on the barn door.

“Major Tallmadge, are you all right? Major Tallmadge!”

It was one of the soldiers. He sounded frantic.

“What is it?” Ben called back, going to the door.

“It’s mutiny, sir. Half the Pennsylvania line’s revolted.”

“Revolted?” Molly whispered aloud. She knew she had not been to camp in many months, but this didn’t make any sense.

“They stole weapons, killed officers.” The soldier went on. They say they’re marching on Congress.”

_Selah._

“Muster the men to the river. I’ll be right there.” Ben replied.

“Yes, sir.”

They heard the man hurry off. Ben came back to where they were all standing in the center of the barn.

“It’s a mutiny.” Ben was looking at Abe now. “There’ll be guards posted everywhere. You try to leave now, you’ll be shot.” He looked over at Anna, “Now, you keep him here. And all of you, keep safe.”

Ben and Molly caught each other’s gaze for a second. If it weren’t for how badly bruised her face was, he would’ve kissed her. But he decided against it. He didn’t want to cause her anymore discomfort. And then he was gone.

Abe began talking quietly with Caleb and Molly pulled Anna to the side.

“A mutiny?” she asked in a hushed voice.

“There’s been unrest since Arnold’s betrayal.” She replied, equally as quiet. “Since the counterfeit plot last autumn, Congress declared bankruptcy.”

“So?”

“Money’s been tight, right? Most soldiers weren’t being paid until their bounty was up.”

Molly nodded. She knew that. It was easier for provide pay after a soldiers’ enlistment than to consistently pay then throughout their enlistment.

“But why are we talking about that?” she asked.

“Molly, Congress declared bankruptcy. They’re recalling all the Continental dollars so that they can weed out the counterfeit ones. But now there is no money circulating. Congress is behind on compensating soldiers.”

“Oh…”

She remembered when they were going to declare bankruptcy. She was supposed to go to Philadelphia with Ben and Washington. But in the mess of everything with her going to York City, she had forgotten that they actually declared bankruptcy.

“And now they’re mutinying because of it.” Anna continued, “But, it should all be over soon. I already wrote to Selah.”

Molly stared at her sister-in-law. She was dumbfounded. Last time she was in camp, Anna asked that Selah not be made known that she had left Setauket. But now, they were writing to each other?

Molly opened her mouth to say more, but Abe beat her to it.

“What’s the mission in New York?”

“What?” Anna asked.

They turned to look at him. He was still partially pacing, and Caleb had moved to lay down on one of the piles of hay. Molly went over to him and laid next to him. Her ribcage was still aching.

“Ben said Washington’s got another operation. Doesn’t want me interfering. What is it?” Abe asked.

He was looking at Molly now. She shook her head and shrugged.

“Beats me.”

He looked at Anna.

“I don’t know.”

That’s when Caleb spoke up.

“They’re telling the truth, Abe.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“And what about _you_?” Abe went on. “Simcoe carved into you like you were a piece of meat.”

“Abraham.” Molly warned.

He shot her a look.

“You as well. Look what he did to you. What could possibly be more important than putting a knife into him?”

Caleb: “Washington doesn’t know Simcoe like we do.”

“To hell with Washington! You think he cares about us?! We are his loyal subjects.”

“Not true.”

Abe was becoming more frustrated.

“He is less than a mile away, and he still won’t see me. Instead I am penned in here like a prized cow, like livestock! With missions I don’t know about, with friends that don’t trust me.”

Caleb rolled his eyes and he shifted in the hay pile, pushing himself up so that he was sitting.

“Arnold, all right?” he said.

Molly raised her eyebrows, sitting up as well.

Caleb went on, “He’s after Arnold. He wants him just as bad as you want Simcoe. He’s obsessed with capturing him and stringing him up for the whole world to see.” He began coughing, and Anna brought him a ladle with some water. There was a water bucket nearby.

“Thank you.” Caleb mumbled. Then he continued, “And he doesn’t trust nobody, neither. Not even those closest to him.”

“Arnold?” Abe repeated.

“Yeah, Arnold. He took out all our friends in New Jersey and New York. I know it feel like it, but you’re not the only spy in the war.”

“He took Townsend?” Abe asked. He sounded concerned.

“Nobody knows.” Anna admitted.

Molly was fairly certain he was fine. But she was beginning to doubt herself now.

Caleb: “Well, we don’t think so.”

“So, no eyes in New York?” Abe asked.

Caleb motioned for Anna to come closer, and then she helped him get to his feet. He stepped closer to Abe now.

“I don’t pretend to know the man well, Abe, but he is a man.”

 _Washington_.

“Not a god and not the devil. He loses men every day—fathers, brothers, sons. And like any other man—”

“He wants revenge.” Abe finished for him.

Caleb shrugged, “I was gonna say he feels each loss.”

Abe nodded, he looked back and forth between the others briefly. Then he said,

“I have a proposal for the general.”

* * *

Abe’s proposal was presented well enough. They discussed the matter more, and the more they discussed, the better detailed the plan became. In the end, all four of them agreed that they needed to tell Ben about their plan. But there was nothing any of them could do about it for now. They were staying in the barn until they heard word that the mutiny had been resolved. And that could take all night.

Towards the beginning of the evening, Molly talked to Anna.

“Anna, do you happen to know where Abigail is?”

“Aye. She’s in York City.”

Molly squinted her eyes.

“Are you sure. When I ran into Jordan, he said he’d heard word she’d cross over to our lines.”

“Oh. That. When John Andre was arrested, he was out of uniform. He requested that his uniform be brought to him directly, for his hanging. Abigail and Cicero crossed into our camp to see to him.”

Molly scoffed, “What? And they _chose_ to go back? Why didn’t they stay here?”

“She went back for Jordan.” Anna smirked when she saw the surprise on her sister-in-law’s face. “Come now, it’s not so hard to believe. Cicero was always fond of the man. And now it seems that all three of them are plotting to get to Canada.”

Molly knew it wasn’t hard to believe. In a way, she was glad they were leaving the colonies. Although Akinbode had saved her life – all their lives – she also knew that it would be easier for the three of them to secure their freedom papers if they crossed the border. Canada also meant that Akinbode could evade Simcoe. And she hoped he would be successful.

More time passed. Eventually, it was late, so the four friends were all in various places around the barn, beginning to doze off. Abe went off to one of the stables to sleep and Anna was sitting on a crate leaning back against one of the posts in the barn, her head bobbing as she tried to fight sleep. Caleb chose to stay lying in a pile of hay, and Molly decided to join him.

They had been beside each other for quite some time, and he hadn’t said a single word to her. She knew that was strange. Usually, when they were together, he couldn’t stop talking. At first, she thought he was genuinely tired. But the more they laid there, she knew he wasn’t asleep. He was avoiding speaking with her.

Tired of the silence, she turned on her side, wincing at the new pressure on her side. She kept her voice low, so that only he could hear her.

“Hey, we need to talk.”

“About?”

He sounded disinterested.

“You know what about. About what Simcoe said.”

“Who cares what that slimy bastard said?”

“You sure seemed to.”

There was a brief silence.

“Good night.” He said sharply, turning his back to her.

She chewed on her lip for a moment. For knowing each other so long, they rarely argued. And she certainly didn’t want all their business being known to Abe and Anna. She believed she had the right to have her own secrets too.

“Caleb—”

“I'm not having this conversation with you.” He cut her off, turning to face her now. “Enough… Besides, it's not like it changes things anyway.”

“That's true.” She said slowly. “But I don't want this to change things between _us_ …”

He rolled his eyes, and the gesture made her scowl.

“Come on, you've hardly said a word to me since we got here.” She went on “I know you don't want to talk, so will you please just listen to me?”

He turned her back to her once more.

“You are a stubborn piece of _shite_." She mimicked the way he and Ben said the curse word. But still, no reaction.

She looked around for a moment and inhaled sharply. She refused to drop the subject though. So she went on.

"If you did feel _that_ way at one point, then that's fine. I don't think less of you for it.”

He scoffed, “Oh, well, I'm so relieved.”

His tone dripped with sarcasm. When he turned to glance at her again, he saw that she was frowning now. She wasn’t angry, she was sad. His expression softened, and he turned to fully face her once more.

“Alright, look, I'm sorry.” He sighed before continuing “Have you said anything to Tallboy about it?”

“Not a word. And I wasn't planning on it.”

He nodded, but she could tell he was still troubled by the fact she knew.

“I didn't want you to know, and I especially don’t want _him_ to know.” Caleb tried to explain. But an explanation wasn’t needed.

“No, I agree. It would make things…”

“Insufferable?”

She snickered.

“I was going to say strange, but aye, it probably would be insufferable as well.”

They were both smiling now.

“I understood a long time ago nothing would come of it.” He sounded in better spirits. “But that still didn’t make me too eager to tell anyone.” He quietly chuckled, “Besides, it’s not like _you_ didn’t fancy any of the lads we grew up with.”

She shoved his shoulder slightly, forgetting they were both hurt for a second. He grimaced, but it turned into quiet laughter.

“I’m serious.” He coughed, “Or do I need to remind you of your little crush on ol' Robbie.”

“Stop.” Her tone was serious, but she was smiling too.

“I still remember when you told ol’ Robbie Carlson that you fancied him, and the clot laughed in your face… so you stole his horse.”

Molly closed her eyes, cringing at the memory. She had been sixteen, Caleb was fifteen. The only people who knew about her crush on Robbie Carlson were Caleb and Samuel – she refused to tell Selah.

She still remembered the mess that had come out of her _declaration of love_ towards the boy. When she stole his horse, she had every intention of returning it. But then Robbie went to his father, who, in turn, went to Molly’s father. And the men had a disagreement, and eventually took the dispute to Judge Woodhull. Abraham’s father had never been fond of her before, but that day practically cemented his longstanding dislike towards her – and the same could be said for Robbie Carlson as well; she had rarely spoken to him since the incident.

Molly still remembered how mortified she had been by the entire affair. Of course, Caleb and Samuel had given her hell for it. They teased her mercilessly for months.

Caleb still found the story amusing.

“Oh, Moll, your father was livid! Never seen the man so angry. And that’s also when the Judge stopped letting Abe visit Strong Manor. Yeah, me and your brother had to sneak him over from then on.”

“I get it. Stop!”

Once their laughter died down, both of them suddenly began incredibly tired. Molly yawned and scooted closer to Caleb, so that she was curled up beside him. And they fell asleep beside each other, and things were just as platonic as they always were.

* * *

They were in the barn until the next day. Ben came to collect them at midmorning.

“Glad to see you didn’t join the mutiny yourself.” Caleb greeted.

Ben wasn’t in the mood for a lighthearted commentary though. He looked exhausted, and that’s because he was. He had been up all night, speaking with other officers, preparing and finally leading soldiers to stop the mutineers’ march on Congress. Ben explained that the army cut them off by dawn. As the revolt was subdued, the soldiers involved chanted “ _we are not Arnolds_ ”. They were not betraying the army because they did not believe in the cause, they just wanted what was owed to them.

“Washington’s already ordered a meeting with the officers. He’s not made a decision yet.”

* * *

The decision was made later that day. All of the soldiers involved in the mutiny (which was a little less than one hundred men) were to be discharged from service immediately. They would also be exempt from reenlistment. As for the leaders of the mutiny, it consisted of ten men in all. Washington ordered that those men be executed. To add insult to injury, Washington also ordered that the men be executed by their own men… to deter any future revolts, the General said.

Caleb and Molly snuck out of the medical tent the first chance they got. They went to see the execution; not because they were coldhearted, more because they were still in disbelief regarding the General’s decision.

The camp at New Windsor stretched much farther than the one in Middlebrook. In Middlebrook, they had been restricted by the local towns and by the landscape. But in New Windsor, they were in the middle of the woods, almost in the middle of nowhere. The barn where Abe was hiding, and the medical tents were about a mile away from the main house Washington had claimed as his headquarters. And that was where the executions were to take place as well.

After their brief hike, they both stood towards the back of the clusters of soldiers, watching everything unfold. The ten leaders were tied to posts in front of headquarters. They were to be killed via firing squad. In front of each man stood one soldier who had been involved in the revolt.

Molly stood on her tiptoes, trying to make out the entire scene. That’s when she noticed Ben and Colonel Hamilton standing next to each other, near the Field Marshall. Field Marshall Wayne was the one who would be giving instructions for the execution. That’s when Molly noticed that Washington was nowhere in sight.

“You’d figure the old bastard would have the decency to show his face.” She whispered.

She hated to speak of the General that way, but she was still annoyed about what Ben had told her. About falling out of favor with him. The punishment these men were facing also irritated her. After all, it wasn’t like Ben had been paid for any of his service in this war either. The only one of them who did have a savings was Caleb. And that was just because he was a privateer, and it was easier for him to smuggle and pocket the profits.

“Oh, he’s here. Look.” Caleb pointed towards the house.

Molly moved her eyes in that direction. And that’s when she saw the General. He was standing in the second story window, watching everything.

And then it was time to begin.

“Make ready!” the Field Marshall ordered.

Other soldiers stepped forward and tied blindfolds around the ten leaders’ heads. So that they could not watch. It became silent. No one made a sound.

“Take aim!”

The men shouldered their muskets and

“Closer!”

Molly scrunched her face in confusion. She and Caleb exchanged a look. This wasn’t normal. The soldiers took a hesitant step forward.

“Closer!”

She looked over at where Ben was. He and Hamilton both looked equally troubled.

“Closer!”

 _Oh, please God, make him stop._ She pleaded.

The soldiers were standing only a couple of feet away from the men meant to be executed. The barrels of their muskets were nearly touching them.

“Fire!”

Molly flinched as the guns went off. She always did. By time she opened her eyes again, the ten men’s bodies were slumping over. They were dead. And the men who had just shot them were trembling where their stood, eager to get away. But it wasn’t over.

“Do not look away!” the Field Marshall ordered.

That’s when the first of the executioners began vomiting.

“Do not look away!”

More men followed suit. They were sickened by what had transpired. Molly brought a hand to her mouth. She had broken out into a cold sweat and she could feel her own stomach churning.

“Do not… look… away!”

Caleb reached out and took her other hand. And she gave him a grateful squeeze. She was certain if she had witnessed this alone, she too would have been sick.

And finally, it was over.

* * *

They were making their way through the parting sea of soldiers. Caleb pulled Molly behind him as he walked. He still had a firm grip on her hand. And then they were at Ben’s tent. Ben was inside, pacing. Still upset by what he just witnessed. The logistics of the execution were brutal enough, but he had no idea the Field Marshall would make the execution more so.

He was startled when he turned around and saw Caleb and Molly step into the tent.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. But then the thought came to him. “Did Abe try and leave?”

“He’s still here. He wants to talk.”

“Yeah, well, everyone wants their grievances heard, don’t they?” Ben was bitter. “Those men out there? And we don’t listen, do we? Not to them, not to bloody Arnold, and this army pays the price. One defection, and it’s tearing us apart, still!”

“Ben.” Molly said quietly.

He ignored her though and began pacing once more.

“I know.” Caleb shrugged. “That’s why I told Abe about our job to grab Arnold.”

Ben froze and shot a glare at his friend.

“You did what?”

“Is this also a bad time to give you my report from New York?” Molly added, trying to diffuse the tension. “I may have fallen out of Washington’s favor, but none of you can ignore the fact that I served drinks to most of the British high command.” She shrugged, “I wasn’t twiddling my thumbs in York City, you know. I know the officers’ schedules.”

Even though she had only been employed at Rivington’s for one months, whenever she would visit Townsend at the coffeehouse, she could also expect to see certain officers at certain times.

Before Ben could say another word, Caleb added.

“Like I said, he wants to talk. Do you wanna listen?”

* * *

When the three of them returned to the barn, Abe and Anna were still there.

Ben: “All right, out with it.”

Abe: “It’s better if I talk to Washington.”

“No, Abe, you talk to me. I talk to him. If your message merits it.

“It does.” Abe explained. “See, Washington wants Arnold and you need intelligence on his movement in the city, and I can get that for you.”

And that’s when Abe pleaded his case. He argued that, as long as Simcoe lived, the ring was compromised. By volunteering to go to York City, Abe would be able to seek vengeance on Simcoe; which could be viewed both justified – for his father’s death – and necessary – for the ring’s protection.

“And how does that help us get to Arnold?” Ben asked.

Abe and Molly exchanged a look.

“Now, just keep an open mind.” Molly said.

Abe nodded, “I volunteer for Arnold’s unit. The American Legion.”

Ben looked over at Molly.

“This part is _your_ idea?” he asked in disbelief.

“Hear us out. When I was a barmaid, I found out enough details about Arnold’s purpose in the city. He was given the title of General and he was given command of a regiment. But let’s be honest, the British are not going to send him out to battle—”

“You don’t know that.”

“They won’t send him out anytime soon.” Her voice was rising to speak over him. “If they do, they’re sure to lose him, and then the loss of Major Andre would’ve been for nothing.”

He still looked unconvinced.

“As a private in the _loyal_ American Legion, Abe will have the perfect opportunity to learn Arnold’s full schedule and observe his movements.”

“So what? Abe, you’re alright will all this? You’ll enlist as a redcoat?”

Caleb shrugged, “More like Tory militia.”

Ben looked around the room at the four of them.

“Okay, fine. Let’s say we go along with this. But it still doesn’t explain Abe’s motivation for joining the Legion.”

“That’s what we said too.” Anna jumped in. “But then I got the latest issue of _the Gazette_.” She pulled the paper out of her dress pockets. “Look, right here.” She opened the newspaper to the appropriate article and pointed. “The redcoats have already thought up a lie to explain what went wrong at the exchange. Look, ‘rampaging rebels as the attackers at Lyme’…” she read. “So, that gives Abe the motive to seek revenge against the _rebels_ who killed his father.”

Ben was quiet for several moments. As much as he didn’t like it, he had to admit, it was a good plan. It was far better than Washington’s current plot to nab Arnold from the city.

“I don’t like it.” Ben finally said.

“Neither do I.” Abe agreed. “But what other choice do we have?”

* * *

By the end of the week, Ben had proposed their plan to Washington. By some Godsent, he approved of the mission, and agreed to support it. They were meeting in the barn one final time to go over the last-minute details.

“Wait until Arnold has been captured before you make your kill.” Ben was saying. “Now, you’ll be traveling to Setauket today. Go lay your father to rest, and then you travel into the city.”

“No, first Mary comes back with me.” Caleb said.

He was still adamant that their first priority was to make sure that Mary and Thomas made it to New Windsor. He was terrified by the prospect of Simcoe getting to them first. He was in better health than before, and he kept reassuring them that he was fine to travel to Setauket with Abe.

“Right, of course,” Ben agreed, “Mary and Thomas will travel back here with Caleb. She—” He paused suddenly. “Hell, what will she tell everyone back home? That she’s—”

“Visiting her father’s.” Anna chimed in.

“Yes, good.” Ben continued, “Then you make your way into the city, you make contact with Townsend and inform him of our mission. After he sends the necessary intelligence back to us, then we will send our man in to you.”

Abe nodded, “Right. And who will it be?”

“Not decided yet. But you will know him by the use of the phrase ‘ _I miss the summer of ’73’_.”

Molly froze, uncertain if she heard him correctly. But she had. The summer of 1773. That was the summer Ben returned to Setauket after being away for university. That was the summer they became close friends.

Ben went on, “Now look, I need your word on this, Abe. Are we in agreement?”

“Aye.”

* * *

Abe and Caleb left at nightfall. They all were there to see him off. Next time they were to see Caleb, Mary and Thomas would be with him. Abe pulled Molly to the side before he departed.

“Let’s please not talk about what happened on Thanksgiving.” She smirked.

They had already discussed it and made the proper apologies. She was glad they could move passed that night.

“I know it’s a lot to ask,” he began. “but please, look after Mary and Thomas for me. You were always a good friend to her back home.”

Molly nodded. The more they talked about Mary, the more excited she was to see her again. She hadn’t seen Mary since she fled from Setauket over a year ago. She had missed her company. And she was excited to see how Thomas had grown.

“Of course I will. We _all_ will.”

Abe glanced over at Ben and Anna.

“I know. But I’m not sure she’ll be so willing to trust _all_ of you.”

They both paused.

“I’m sorry again.” she said. “For your father.”

He looked away, and she suddenly felt sorry she had anything. His eyes were watery.

“Thank you.”

“Hey, good luck.”

He scoffed, almost in disbelief still. “I hope this plan of ours works.”

“So do I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did try to do some research on the injuries Caleb and Molly sustained. Caleb's injuries are kind of weird bc Simcoe cut and burned him, but based on the episode, the cuts were never that deep. The main thing about his injuries are just the physical and mental exhaustion of being tortured. Physically, he's going to be fine; but there would probably be a lot of scarring. Mentally... well we all know how that turns out.
> 
> As for Molly, she got the absolute shit beaten out of her. So, she has a couple broken ribs and the description of what the injury looks like/the treatment is about as accurate as I can make it. As for her broken nose, that treatment was weird to research. Noses typically need to be rebroken/need a type of splint to help them heal correctly. I tried researching what may have been used for a splint in the 1770s, but I couldn't find any information. The nose heals fairly quickly, so the gauze technique is completely made up by me. Seeing as I have no credentials, I have no idea if that would actually work ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Also, fun thing about laudanum. It was a popular painkiller during the 17th and 18th centuries. Like I said, it was a mixture of alcohol and opium. So, you can imagine how addictive it was; hence why Molly only needs such a small dose and then she's passed out for hours.


	36. 4x05

Abe and Caleb had departed an hour ago. Anna had said goodnight, and Ben and Molly were walking together around the perimeter of camp. Neither was tired, so they kept their pace slow.

“So, I talked with the doctor.” Molly said. Although no one was near them, she still kept her voice low. “He says I can feel free to leave the medical tent at my convenience.”

“Right.” Ben replied hesitantly.

“What? What is it?

He slowed his pace almost to a standstill. She stopped and turned to look back at him.

“What, and does Washington have a problem with my presence in camp as well?”

“It’s not that.” He shook his head and continued walking.

“Then _what_?”

Ben shrugged, still unsure of how to word it.

“Look, since Arnold’s betrayal, everyone’s on edge. I’m afraid of what questions may arise if you were to resume your work as a camp follower.”

“Right.” She said slowly. “I never asked… What excuse did you make for me? To explain my disappearance from camp.”

“I told everyone there was a family emergency. And that you were visiting your father back home.”

She raised her eyebrows in amusement. Her parents had been dead for seven years.

“My _father_?” she repeated.

“Well— Well, I—” he stammered, and she snickered at his reaction. “What else was I supposed to say?”

“It was a fine excuse.” She admitted.

He changed subjects. Since they were reunited, she noticed that he, too, had been in a strange mood. From what he had told her, she assumed it was just anxiety from the incident with Arnold, and from dealing with Washington’s newfound paranoia.

“I don’t want you living with the camp followers again. I want you to wait.”

“But why—?”

“Molly, look at you. You’ve had the shite beaten out of you, and you really expect the other women not to ask questions.”

She hesitated to respond. He had a point.

“Fine, I agree. So what then? Are you going to just hide me in your tent until the rest of the bruising goes away?”

That could take weeks though.

“Well—” he sighed. “Washington has all of us under strict orders to follow protocol.” He glanced over at her briefly. “And that means there’s no way you can resume your previous position as my aide-de-camp. The same goes for us staying together. Washington won’t stand for it.”

Her eyebrows knitted together.

“You already told me you’re breaking orders by telling me of the Arnold scheme. What makes this different?”

“Because, if Washington finds out, I could be demoted or court-martialed.”

She snorted, “Yeah, right! Come on, Ben, you really think the General is that foolish? If he loses you, you really think the rest of us will be so willing to keep the ring together, huh? Especially now.”

He didn’t respond so she said next.

“If I’m not to stay with you, then _where_ will I stay until the bruising fades?”

“I’ll have a word with the staff at the medical tent. Tell them you’re to be housed there, under my orders.”

The idea of staying in the medical tent much longer made Molly’s stomach churn. Although she had been moved to the tent where the soldiers closer to recovery were, she was still often awoken by the sounds of men in pain, and vomiting, and other general disorder. But she also knew that Ben was right. If she moved back with the camp followers too soon, she would have to make excuses for her appearance. Not to mention the rumors that could begin. The last thing they needed was for there to be rumors that the bruises were courtesy of _Ben_.

“It’s getting late.” Ben said, breaking the silence. “I’ll walk you back.”

He started to change directions, but she reached out and grabbed him by the arm, stopping him.

“What is it?” he asked, his voice filled with concern.

She closed the gap between them so that they were facing each other, with hardly an inch of room between their bodies. She was looking up at him now. She had a hand on his chest, and he placed a hand on her waist.

“I’ve been in camp a week, and you won’t even touch me.”

It was dark, but she could still see the blush rising to his face.

“I didn’t want to hurt you further.” He said.

“You could’ve just asked.”

“Oh, what,” he scoffed, “and appear to be your depraved fiancé?”

“But that’s what you are… For that’s what I am too.”

“No, you’re—”

She cut him off before he could go on another tangent.

“Will you shut up and let me kiss you?”

She reached a hand up to the back of his neck and pulled him down so that his lips could meet hers. Her other hand was kept knotted in the fabric of his uniform, making sure he wouldn’t try to move. He was tense at first, but then he allowed himself to move his hands to her back and pulled her closer so that she was pressed flush again him.

She moved to pull away, thinking that he had enough. She moaned in surprise when he moved one of his hands to her face, and he was the one to become more ardent now. She could feel a blush rising in her own cheeks. It had become almost unbearably warm. And suddenly, her clothes felt too tight, and she was sure he felt the same.

Her split lip stung slightly as his lips moved against hers, but she tried to ignore it. She had missed _this_. She had missed _him_. She didn’t even know how long this lasted, but finally Ben was the one to break the kiss. He kept his forehead pressed against hers. They were both lightly panting.

“We should stop.”

“Why?” she breathed.

“Because, if we continue, I fear I’m going to disobey orders and invite you back to my tent.”

She didn’t miss a beat.

“I’d invite you to mine, but I figure we could do without the audience.” She deadpanned.

He snorted, but then it turned into full-fledged laughter, and then she joined in as well.

“Like I said, I’ll walk you to your tent.”

He pecked her on the lips again, and then they separated. When they walked this time, he refused to let go of her hand, and she was glad for it.

* * *

Two weeks passed. Ben and Caleb agreed to meet at the edge of camp two weeks from the day Abe and Caleb departed. So, that’s where Ben, Anna, and Molly were riding to now.

The past two weeks had proven successful for Molly. While her ribs were still not fully healed, the bruising on her face had faded quickly enough. The only noticeable damage was her nose, but even that had been reduced to faint swelling. The three of them agreed that she looked well enough to find a place with the camp followers once more.

The timing worked out as well. Anna would escort Molly and Mary into camp. They would make up an excuse than Molly and Mary met while separately traveling to meet up with the army.

Molly and Ben each had their own horses. Anna rode with Ben. She had never been a skilled rider. Molly was giddy at the prospect of being reunited with her friend again. She was even more excited to properly introduce her to her friends; Mary had never properly met Ben.

It didn’t take long for them to catch sight of two riders up ahead. As both parties got closer, they recognized Caleb Brewster, with Mary and Thomas Woodhull in tow. Caleb rode with Thomas, and Mary rode by herself. They stopped beside each other and all of them dismounted.

“Mary!”

Molly rushed forward to hug her friend. She pulled back and kept her friend at arms’ length once they separated; she looked the same.

“Hello, Molly.” She gave her a tired smile.

“It’s so good to see you.”

“No, you as well.”

“And how did Thomas fair on the journey up here?” Molly turned to look down at the boy. He was four years old now. “Look how you’ve grown!” she smiled.

Thomas looked up at her wide-eyed. She could tell he didn’t remember her.

“Well, I suppose you’ve become acquainted with Caleb.” Molly went on. “And you already know Anna. But I want to introduce you to my fiancé. This is Benjamin.”

It felt weirdly mundane to be speaking like this. It almost reminded her of what life was like before they called off their engagement, before he joined the war.

Mary and Ben nodded at each other as they briefly shook hands. Each was still wary of the other.

“Welcome to New Windsor.” Ben said.

“Major Tallmadge.”

Mary turned to greet Anna as well.

“Mrs. Strong.”

Ben: “Your husband has sacrificed much for our cause.”

Anna: “You both have.”

Ben: “The least that we can do is see that you’re protected and well cared for. If there’s anything that you require, please don’t hesitate to call upon Molly or myself. Anna will take both you and Molly the rest of the way into the camp. It’ll be safer that way.”

“Safer?” Mary asked.

“For Abraham.” Anna explained. “If you were to be seen with Ben or Caleb, it might raise questions.”

“We need to take precautions.” Ben nodded. “Now, you won’t be able to speak about your husband or about his mission.”

Mary nodded in agreement.

“Of course not.”

Anna: “And you can’t use your surname anymore.”

Ben: “‘Woodhull’ is linked with the Tory character. Anna’s had to fabricate an account of her being here. She’ll help you craft one of your own.”

Mary glanced at Caleb, almost waiting for his approval as well.

Caleb shrugged, “When Woody was in camp, they wouldn’t even let him out of the barn, so…”

Ben looked down and noticed that Thomas was staring at him. That’s when he saw that Thomas was clutching a silver soldier figurine. Thomas kept glancing from the soldier to Ben.

“Oh, well, what have you got there?” Ben knelt down beside him. Thomas handed him the toy and Ben smiled. It was a figure from the Woodhulls set of toy soldiers. “Your father and I, we used to play with these.”

He handed the figure back to Thomas

“Well, Caleb and I best be off.” Ben stood upright once more. “It was nice to see you again, Mrs. Woodhull.”

Anna and Molly both helped untie Mary’s bags from where they were secured to her horse, and then they split the load between the three of them. They would be traveling the rest of the way into camp on foot. They said their quick goodbyes, and then Ben and Caleb rode off, leading the extra horses with them.

Anna silently began to lead them in the direction of the camp followers. Mary and Molly walked behind, keeping pace with Thomas, who was already struggling to keep up with them with his short legs. The two friends talked quietly.

“I’m sorry.” Molly began. “I know it was wrong of me to flee on such short notice—”

Mary cut her off. “Stop. Do not blame yourself. It was no trouble to think up an excuse for you… I am just grateful you left that letter.”

A beat.

“Just know, I do intend to repay you. For the money you sent to the city.”

Mary brushed her off. “I know Abraham probably still owes your brother enough money. Your brother saved our harvest enough times… Have you heard from him?”

“Who, Selah?”

“Yes.”

“Aye. I’ve only recently returned to camp myself. I was away for…”

She hesitated. She wasn’t sure how much she should share with Mary.

“I don’t need details. I understand.” Mary replied.

“It’s been awhile since we corresponded, but aye, Selah is doing well. He’s now a Congressman in Philadelphia.”

“Really?”

Mary was smiling now. Although she and Selah did not know each other well, they were acquainted during their time as neighbors. And the news that the local tavern owner had turned to politics was most intriguing to Mary.

“I didn’t know Selah had an interest.”

“He’s always like politics. He wanted to study law, but…”

“Right, the funds.”

Molly had told Mary before.

During the same time Samuel, Abe, and Ben left for university, Selah was originally going to go as well. However, the year before, the harvest was bad at Strong Manor. Their family relied on the income from their crop, and that year, Mr. and Mrs. Strong barely made ends meet. They didn’t have enough money for Selah to go away. So, he stayed home. They were planning on sending him at a later time, after they’d saved more money. But then Molly and Selah’s parents became ill and died suddenly. Everything was bequeathed to Selah, and there was no more time for him to go away to university.

“But, hey, let’s not talk about that.” Molly changed the subject. “You are here, as are my other friends, and my sister-in-law. And I am content.”

Mary looked away for a moment.

“I’m not sure if your friend, Mr. Brewster, likes me.”

“What makes you say that?”

“He was very quiet on the trip up.”

“I don’t know if he told you, but he was injured recently.”

Mary shook her head.

“Did he ever tell you about what happened with Captain Simcoe?”

Molly narrowed her eyes trying to think, but she couldn’t think of any particularly mentionable stories.

“In the time after _you_ left and right before _Anna_ left, Abraham and Mr. Brewster were planning to ambush the Queen’s Rangers.”

Molly perked up at the comment. She did remember him mentioning it. But that was a long time ago.

“Right. He did say something about that.”

“Well, after the ambush went awry, Simcoe was even more of a menace. It wasn’t just in Setauket. I heard stories that he terrorized all of Long Island for months. Abe was planning on quitting then and having us flee and meet up with the army. Everything was in place for us to flee and meet Mr. Brewster and have him ferry us across the Sound. But then Simcoe returned to Setauket, with his sights set on arresting Abraham.” She sighed. “I don’t know exactly why. Abe’s explanation was rather muddled.”

“When was this?”

“Last November.”

Molly’s expression fell. Last November was when she had traveled to Samuel Townsend’s house for Thanksgiving. She was now almost certain that her initial plan had not worked. Whatever had happened, Robert Townsend was not the one who needed protecting; it was Abraham Woodhull who was in danger all along.

“I ended up… Well, I ended up sending Rangers in the direction of Mr. Brewster’s boat. I had to make a choice, and I chose my husband.”

It was almost like she felt the need to defend yourself.

“I assure you, Caleb is one of the most forgiving people I know.” Molly replied. “I’m sure he hardly thought twice about the matter. The important thing is, he’s alive, and so are you and Abe.”

They walked in silence for a while longer.

“I don’t suppose Mr. Brewster told you about what _else_ happened during that incident?”

Molly’s silence prompted Mary to explain. She was having trouble keeping her grin at bay.

“I nearly killed him, Moll. I shot our dreaded Captain Simcoe.”

Molly laughed aloud and stared at her friend in utter disbelief.

“What? How?”

“When his men were in the woods hunting for Mr. Brewster, Simcoe was at Whitehall. I snuck outside with Abraham’s musket. And I shot him through the window. I thought I had killed him but, but it seems I am not a fine marksman.”

“And he didn’t find out it was you?”

Mary bit her lip as she smiled, “Mmhmm. He has no idea it was me. He thought it was Mr. Brewster.”

Molly’s unassuming _loyalist_ friend still proved to be full of surprises. After all, it was Mary who burned down their farmhouse. And it was Mary who plotted to kill Corporal Eastin.

“Hey,” Molly put a hand on her friend’s arm, “you’re a fine enough marksman. Although he survived, _you_ shot him. You got closer than any of us.”

“That’s what your friend Mr. Brewster said as well.”

* * *

As they came upon the camp followers and navigated their way through the tents, Mary said aloud.

“So where do both of you stay? Are you two sharing a tent?”

Anna and Molly eyed each other.

“Not exactly.” Molly admitted.

Anna explained, “I have been granted possession of a cart. It acts as a sort of trading post for the followers and soldiers alike. That’s where I stay and work.”

Molly nodded, “And like I said. I’ve only recently returned to camp as well. I know it may be a bit… blunt, but would you mind too terribly if _we_ shared a tent? You, me, and Thomas?”

“Of course, I don’t mind. In fact, it’s probably better if we do. You can show me around.”

“Another thing you should know,” Anna added, “camp followers are restricted to their side of camp. Women aren’t allowed to cross over into the main camp.”

Molly narrowed her eyes.

“Well… that’s not exactly true.” She said slowly. “As for myself, I’m allowed to cross over to visit Ben at nearly all hours.”

“Why’s that?” Mary asked, very interested by the politics of the Continental camp.

“Officer’s wife.” Molly scrunched her face, “Well, I say wife… either way, it comes with its own perks. And as for Anna…” She stopped herself, suddenly unsure if she was supposed to tell Mary that Anna was still involved in the ring.

It didn’t matter because Mary asked anyway.

“How to you go back and forth? Don’t you live here as well?”

“I have a foot in both camps.” Was all she said.

Anna gestured for them to stop walking. The three of them were stood in front of a dilapidated tent. It wasn’t exactly a tent. More like a series of blankets strung up between two trees so that they provided a type of roof.

“I know it’s a far cry from what you’re accustomed to.” Anna began.

“It’s a roof over our heads.” Mary sounded grateful. “…mostly.”

Anna: “The woman who used to live here was drummed out of camp.”

Molly remembered Anna telling her the story. After Arnold’s betrayal, Washington had also become stricter with the camp followers and their role in camp. The woman who used to live here was angry about her husband’s lack of compensation, so she refused to do any work at camp. She stopped doing laundry, she stopped mending clothing. So, she was drummed out of camp, and she was not allowed to return.

“She was a—” Mary didn’t want to say it. “You know a—”

“A whore?”

The three of them turned to watch the woman who had just spoken. But it was just Mrs. Barnes. She was a middle-aged woman, who always wrapped herself in shawls. Molly recognized her from the camp in Middlebrook. They would talk sometimes, but she never became well acquainted with her. Back then, she spent most of her time with Ben or Caleb.

Mrs. Barnes smiled. “No. The whores around here get paid for their troubles.”

Anna ignored the comment and turned back to Mary.

“If there’s provisions you lack, I’ll procure them from the sutler’s cart.”

“Ain’t you going to introduce us?” Mrs. Barnes chimed in.

Molly saw Anna roll her eyes, but then she complied. But she sounded tense.

“Mary, this is Mrs. Barnes.”

“Ann Barnes.” The older woman smiled and they shook hands. “And you’re Mary…?”

“Smith.” Mary instantly said. “Mary Smith, from Suffolk County. And this is my boy, Thomas.” She picked up Thomas so that both he and Mrs. Barnes could get a good look at each other.

“Hello, Thomas. Welcome.”

Children were a subject many of the camp followers enjoyed discussing. There was always at least one of them running around.

Mrs. Barnes turned to look at Molly.

“Good to see you again, Mrs. Tallmadge. Some of us were beginning to think you’d left that husband of yours.”

Molly feigned a smile. It had always been easier to introduce herself as Ben’s wife while talking to the camp followers. The old warning from Martha Washington still proved to be very true; camp followers did not take too well to officers’ wives. They were always asking for favors and extra rations and supplies; things that Molly couldn’t get anyway; but the women didn’t believe that; and that was what made it annoying.

“You as well, Mrs. Barnes.” Molly bowed her head slightly.

“Well, I best be finishing my chores. I’ll be sure to stop by, when you’re all settled.”

They said their goodbyes and Mrs. Barnes departed.

Anna let out a sigh. She could never stand that woman.

“Well, I suppose I should be off as well.” Anna said, “If I’m gone much longer, I’ll be missed at my cart. We’ll talk more later.”

And she was off as well. So that just left Molly, Mary, and Thomas.

“Mrs. Tallmadge?” Mary said quietly. She was beginning to place her bags into the shelter. “I thought you said he was your fiancé. Unless… did you elope?”

Mary wasn’t trying to be nosy. She was genuinely curious.

When they first met, Mary remembered telling Judge Woodhull of her fondness for the woman. Although they came from totally different backgrounds – Mary a city and Molly a farming town – the two of them had no problem thinking of things to discuss. It was as if they were old friends being reunited.

Mary’s future father-in-law immediately retorted that Molly Strong was not good company to keep. He told her about Molly’s troublesome childhood and about her failed engagement to a current officer in the Continental Army. Mary ignored Judge Woodhull’s warnings. After speaking more with Molly and becoming better acquainted, there was no doubt in her mind that Molly was a loyalist.

The entire time they had known each other, Molly had refused to speak about her past engagement. Mary remembered how sorry she felt for her friend. She remembered how hurt she had been to hear of Thomas Woodhull’s passing. She couldn’t imagine being engaged to someone who would betray the King… but that was then.

“No. We’re not married yet.”

Molly was beside her now, leading Thomas back to where they were. He had started to wander off.

“Why not?” Mary asked.

Molly didn’t respond immediately.

“To be honest, I’m not sure. We didn’t get married before because we weren’t sure how long the war would last. We didn’t know who would win. But now…” she let out a sigh, “I don’t really know. I suppose we still don’t know who will win.”

“What happens if we lose?”

Mary’s voice had gone quiet. She had never really thought of the war in terms of victors and losers. Her primary focus had always been on keeping Abe alive.

Molly shrugged; her voice nonchalant.

“I suppose things would probably go back to how they were before. High taxes, quartering soldiers, everything like that. The Continental Congress will be hanged for treason against the King… along with General Washington and the other military leaders. I don’t suppose they would hang every soldier, but they may very well try to imprison them. And as for the wives and families of those men, I haven’t the faintest idea.”

Mary nodded slowly.

If they lost the war, Molly was looking at losing literally everything. Her brother’s estate had already been seized all those years ago, and Molly owned few possessions now, and she had no savings. If they lost the war, Benjamin and Caleb and Selah (for that matter) would most likely all be executed. Although Molly was a camp follower, that didn’t mean she would be accused of treason as well. The only way to ensure Molly would not be killed or imprisoned as well, was by keeping her as disconnected from the three of them as possible.

Mary realized then that she was not the only one who had been keeping secrets. Molly was doing all of this for family just as much as Mary was.

“So, Benjamin won’t let you two get married?” she finally asked.

Molly feigned a smile, “I suppose you could say that.”

* * *

Two weeks passed, and Mary seemed to be settling well into life as a camp follower. Molly was as well. It was an adjustment for both of them, spending most of their time doing odd jobs around camp.

One day they were both sat in front of their tent. Molly borrowed a short table from one of the other women, and she and Mary were both sat on the ground, using the table’s surface to help them keep their hands steady as they sewed. There was a pile of clothing in between them that needed mending. Thomas sat beside them, drawing on his small chalkboard. Mary had been teaching him to write back at home. He had been practicing his letters all morning.

Now he had found a new game. He kept asking Mary and Molly how to spell certain words. As they spelled them aloud for him, he scribbled down the appropriate letters on the chalkboard.

“How do you spell your name?” He asked. He was a shy child, and his voice was incredibly soft.

“Molly. M-O-L-L-Y.” she spelled aloud slowly for him.

She smiled as she watched him form the shaky letters.

“Aye. There you go.”

“And how do you spell your last name?” he asked.

“S-T-R-O-N-G.”

He took a moment to look at the fresh letters he had written.

“What does it say?” He tilted his head slightly.

“Strong.”

Mary glanced over at his latest words.

“Ms. Molly is a Strong, just like you and I and papa are Woodhulls.” she whispered, But remember, Thomas, we’re all playing a game with the other women, and we can’t tell them our last names.”

“Aye,” Molly nodded. “You can’t tell anyone I’m a Strong. Can you do that for me still?”

He nodded. Thomas didn’t talk much as it was, but this was the easiest excuse the women thought up to prevent him from saying too much.

Several minutes passed in silence. But then Thomas said.

“Ms. Molly, do you have three names?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Mama has three names.”

Mary smirked. Thomas has recently become interested in learning peoples’ full names.

“He means do you have a middle name?” Mary clarified. “My full name is Mary Madigan Woodhull. Right, Thomas?”

He was back to scribbling on his chalkboard again.

“Well, if we’re revealing those details, then my full name is Mary Strong.”

Mary’s needle froze. She tilted her head slightly, unsure if she had heard her friend correctly.

“Sorry?” she asked.

Molly glanced up, unfazed. “Mary. That’s my name too… not that anyone’s ever called me that… My full name is Mary Floyd Strong… Floyd as in my mother’s maiden name.”

She went back to her sewing, but Mary was still sat there in disbelief. She couldn’t believe she had never heard this – from Molly or any of their other neighbors alike.

“You’ve never told me that.” She finally said.

Molly shrugged. “There was no need to. Everyone’s always called my Molly. There were enough Marys as it was growing up. You know what I mean.”

Mary did know what she meant. Mary was one of the most common girls’ names. She had grown up with her own slew of Marys in the city.

“I’ve never even heard anyone call you that though.” Mary continued, “Even Father... I remember when he was helping with the investigation of Captain Joyce’s death. He had to write up some papers, and your name was only written as _Molly Strong_.”

Molly bit her lip in amusement. She didn’t know what was so hard to believe. It wasn’t like she went around telling people her full Christian name.

“Well of course he did. I’ve lived my whole life in Setauket. I knew Abe’s father for most of my life. Like I said, everyone just calls me Molly.”

They went back to sewing again. After a few moments, Molly glanced over at her friend and elbowed her playfully.

“Hey!” Mary laughed.

“You know, you’re not the only one who can keep a secret.” She teased.

“I’ll keep that in mind… _Mary_.”

“Thank you, Mrs. _Smith_.”

Mary was the one to playfully elbow her then.

* * *

Molly awoke the next morning to a bearded face looming above her.

“Morning!”

She yawned and sat up, brushing him away. She was speaking in hushed tones, not wanting to disturb Mary or Thomas who laid beside her.

“Morning, Caleb.”

“Major Tallboy wants to see you.”

“Oh, I’m being _summoned_?”

“Come on.”

She crawled to her feet and grabbed her cloak from where she had laid it beside their makeshift bed. She wrapped it around her shoulder as she followed him through the scattered rows of tents. It was still early, and most of the women were still asleep. She shivered as she tried to keep up with his pace.

“So,” she breathed, “I haven’t seen you in a few days. Any word from Abe?”

“No, nothing new. But don’t worry, you’ll be the first to know.”

They crossed over into the main encampment, near Washington’s headquarters. The camp was already bustling with soldiers. She followed Caleb into one of the tents.

She had only been to Ben’s tent a handful of times. He began visiting her recently, and they would walk together in the nearby woods to speak in private. His tent in New Windsor was much larger than the one in Middlebrook. He still had his usual furniture: a bed, desk, and some chairs. But now he also had a small dresser, where his shaving mirror sat, and there was a large table in the center of the space. It was covered in maps, like it usually was.

Before she had a chance to say anything, Ben was in front of her holding a folded piece of paper.

“Morning?” she asked suspiciously, taking the paper from him.

He and Caleb exchanged a knowing look as she opened the paper and read what was written on it. It was a letter. After a few seconds, she laughed aloud.

“Selah’s coming?! Here?!”

* * *

Selah Strong arrived in the New Windsor encampment by the end of the week. His reason for visiting? He received a letter from Anna, explaining the current conditions in camp, and explaining the cause of the recent mutiny.

It was different when he visited this time. In Middlebrook, Selah had been visiting as a civilian, a veteran of the Continental Army. But now, in New Windsor, Selah was visiting as a Congressman. He had won the nomination and the elections last fall, at around the same time Molly went to New York.

Molly knew she couldn’t see him when he first arrived. As soon as he arrived, Ben was going to take him on a tour of camp and show him the conditions of the soldiers firsthand – a lot had changed since Selah was an ensign in the army. She had been waiting in Ben’s tent for the last several hours. Finally, they stepped into the tent.

“Molly!”

“Selah!”

She got to her feet and they embraced.

“Sorry I’ve not written.” She said.

“Don’t be. Ben wrote to me. Said it wasn’t safe.”

He glanced between her and Ben. He still didn’t know the full extent of what they were doing. All he knew was that Ben was Head of Intelligence, and that Caleb, Molly, and Anna were all involved somehow.

Molly nodded, gesturing for Selah to take a seat at the table with her.

“How did you find camp?” she asked.

“I must say, it’s changed much since I was last here.” Selah admitted.

“For the better?”

She knew what his answer would be before he said it.

“No. I wouldn’t say that.”

“Aye,” Ben agreed, “Those men who received you, they joined two years ago. They’ve not been paid since.”

“Aye,” Molly added, “and neither Ben nor Caleb have been paid since they joined the war nearly four years ago.”

Ben stepped over to his desk where a bowl of unperishable rations was. He placed the bowl on the table in front of Selah.

Ben: “I can assure you our rations are more meager than these.”

Selah digested that information for a moment. Then he said.

“I’m sponsoring a bill to provide veterans half-pay for life.”

Ben sighed, “Selah, the men need money _now_ , not promises for later. If they’re not paid soon, then the army won’t be defending Congress, we’ll be defending Congress from the army.”

Selah rose to his feet again and started pacing.

“I’m sorry.” Ben sounded tense. “I won’t tell you how to do your job.”

Selah turned back to look at him.

“And I won’t tell you how to do yours.” A beat. “I know you can’t speak about Benedict Arnold’s intrigues, but do you still have active intelligencers?”

He glanced at Molly briefly. Ben didn’t say anything, but he nodded.

“And that includes Anna?”

Molly raised her eyebrows in surprise. She didn’t say anything though. She knew Anna and Selah were corresponding again; Anna had said so herself. But she didn’t know more than that. She had chosen not to pry.

Selah looked at Ben, “You said that she was valuable to you back in Setauket.”

“Yes.” Ben admitted.

“Does she serve the same purpose here in camp?”

“Well, she wouldn’t be here if she didn’t.”

 _Liar_. Molly still didn’t understand why they were still protecting her. They weren’t children anymore. She didn’t understand why Anna had waited to long to begin corresponding with him again. This entire time, despite everything, Anna and Selah were still married. If Anna was unhappy, she could always write to Selah regarding a divorce. It was not an ideal solution, but Selah was a good man. If Anna was truly unhappy, Selah would do everything in his power to conciliate her.

Molly had no shame in admitting that she overreacted when she first discovered the news to be true. But she did not regret what she did. Although the affair was over, she was still bothered by it. She was sure she always would be; regardless of their ultimate decision.

But at the same time, she had no idea what her brother was doing. She was beginning to have the same thoughts regarding him. What was he doing? He was clearly excited to hear from her. Hence why he was here. But even now, he didn’t even try to bring her to Philadelphia with him? He was clearly letting Anna decide. But they were proving to be just as indecisive as the other. And although Molly still loved her brother and she was proud of him, for the first time in her life, Molly was no longer interested in rushing to her brother’s defense.

“Of course.” Selah replied.

He sounded almost as if he was embarrassed for asking. Molly shot Ben a look, and he was worried for a moment that he would say the wrong thing. Although they had talked about the affair, Ben was not as judgmental as Molly. After Molly told him that Abe and Anna had been secretly engaged, Ben decided that was not his place to judge. It wasn’t his business.

Despite his uncertainty, Ben had to respond.

“But she is your wife, Selah. She’s… if you wish to take her back to Philadelphia with you, then, well, that is your prerogative, of course.”

Selah feigned a smile, and then the topic of conversation was dropped.

* * *

Selah was to be in camp for a week, to meet with other officers and with Washington. Molly knew they would hardly see each other, but she didn’t mind like she did before. Selah was here on business.

She hated to leave Mary alone so often that week, but there she was, back in Ben’s tent. She, Ben, and Caleb were discussing the newest intelligence from New York. Ben was sat at his desk, and Caleb was sat on Ben’s cot, listening to him as Ben read through the latest copy of _the Gazette._ Molly was standing behind Ben with her arms loosely draped around his shoulders. She was reading over his shoulder.

“Beaver hats, walking canes, peacock plumes. No French raspberry brandy.” Ben sighed.

He put down the paper and leaned back in his chair so that the back of his head was against Molly’s stomach.

“Just doesn’t make sense.” Ben went on. “Abe should have made contact with Townsend by now.”

“Aye, it’s been nearly two months.” She muttered.

Molly absentmindedly ran a hand through his hair.

Ben: “Townsend, who in turn should make contact with Hercules Mulligan.”

Hercules Mulligan was one of the few spies they had remained in contact with. He lived in York City, and Molly vaguely remembered hearing his name. He was a tailor. When Arnold was rounding up spies in the city, Mulligan was one of the men arrested, but he feigned innocence and was released from jail. Now, since he was one of the only spies (besides Townsend) left in New York, he was helping with the plot to nab Arnold.

“Unless Townsend’s not quit the game altogether.” Ben pondered.

Molly still didn’t believe that.

“He’s not. I’m sure of it.” She said.

Ben glanced over at Caleb, who looked troubled and was still sat staring straight ahead. He had been acting strange all day.

“Are we talking to ourselves?” Ben asked.

Caleb blinked, coming out of his daze. He looked at the both of them for a second.

“Sorry.” He stammered. “Um… ain’t Mulligan in jail?”

Ben let out an exasperated sigh and rose to his feet. Molly stole his seat while he began to pace.

“No, Caleb, we’ve been through this. He was released weeks ago. We learned that through his slave, Cato, who was able to cross the Hudson unmolested, remember?”

“Yeah, Cato, right.”

“Major Tallmadge?”

Molly turned at the familiar voice. Standing at the entrance to Ben’s tent was Mary Woodhull.

“Mary?” Molly turned in her seat so that she could face her friend.

“What are you—?” Ben quickly ushered her inside and looked outside his tent, to ensure she hadn’t been followed.

“Am I intruding?” Mary asked.

“Mary, camp followers are not allowed to enter this section of the camp, let alone to walk directly into my tent.” He snapped.

“Ben—” Molly began.

But she found herself cut off by Mary’s comment.

“Doesn’t Anna Strong?”

“Well, she’s— she’s—” Ben stuttered.

He looked at Molly warily, but all Molly did was shrug. She hadn’t said a word to Mary about Anna still being involved in the ring. Whatever Mary knew, she found out on her own, meaning that Ben was not being as careful as he’d hoped.

Mary went on, “You said if I needed anything, I should come to Molly or you. Seeing as Molly has been preoccupied this week, I have come to you directly. And what I need is information on my husband.”

“Information?” Ben asked.

“What he’s doing? How he’s doing.”

“It’s early, Mary.” Caleb added.

“I’m afraid I simply cannot do that, Mrs. Woodhull. Your husband’s mission is highly confidential.” Ben’s tone was becoming harsher.

Mary looked down for a moment, then she said.

“I have a right to be kept informed. Has he joined Arnold yet? Found a way to kill Simcoe?”

Molly could feel the grin forming on her face. Ben quickly shushed Mary.

“How did you know?” he demanded.

“I’m his wife. Who do you think delayed the soldiers while you were burning the hay? I have been helping my husband and thus your cause for some time now, and I deserve to know the truth.”

Ben turned away for a moment, becoming more irritated.

“Ben.” Caleb tried to cut in.

“No.” Ben turned back to Mary. His tone overly formal this time. “Madam, while you are amongst this army, you will follow this army’s rules.”

“Ben.” Molly warned.

He ignored her though.

“So long as you wish to remain here, you will obey the chain of command. Is that understood? Now you will be excused.” He pointed towards the entrance.

Molly knew her friend was glaring, but Mary wordlessly turned to go.

“Mary.” Ben added, almost knowing his tone had been too harsh. “Look, it is my intention to protect your husband. You have no more _right_ to know of his movements than does the enemy.”

Mary did not respond, and she left the tent. Molly watched Caleb rise to his feet and followed after her. Ben groaned in frustration and walked back over to where Molly was at the desk.

“What was _that_?” she asked slowly.

“What was what? I cannot believe Abe jeopardized the mission like that.”

She scoffed.

“That’s rich coming from you.”

He looked baffled by her response, so she continued.

“Oh, come on, you really blame Abe for entrusting secrets to Mary? We do that same thing all the time.”

“But the difference is, I do not know Mary.”

“No, but you trust my discretion, yes? And you trust Abe’s?”

He didn’t say anything.

“Ben, Mary has done more for this cause than anyone gives her credit for. _I_ told you that last year when I fled Setauket. She covered for me, and at that point she had only just decided to support our cause. Before that, she was just as much a Tory as Judge Woodhull was.”

“Molly.”

His tone had softened, but her mood had not.

“Don’t.” She said. “Now I, too, am going to follow after her, and I’m going to apologize for not defending her, like I should have, when you snapped at her. Because Mary has sacrificed just as much as the rest of us to be here.”

With that, she was gone.

* * *

By time Molly had caught up with Mary, Caleb was nowhere in sight, and Mary was angrily tidying up their shared tent.

“Mary?”

“Some friends you’ve chosen…”

Molly ignored the comment.

“Mary?”

“What?” Mary snapped.

“That wasn’t bullshit back there. We really don’t know. We haven’t heard from Abe or from our other man in New York.”

“It’s been two months!”

“I know. That’s why Ben’s so on edge as well.”

“Oh, your precious Benjamin. You heard the way he talked to me…”

She said more, but Molly had turned and was walking in the opposite direction. She would come back to talk with her after she calmed down.

* * *

That night, neither woman said anything as they squeezed into their shared makeshift bed. They had Thomas lay between them, as a way to keep him warm. It was always cold at night. They still hadn’t talked about what happened earlier that day.

“Just know, when we hear word about Abe, I’ll be to tell you. I wouldn’t keep that from you. You can trust me.”

Molly’s whisper pierced through the darkness.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve come to you first.”

Molly turned on her side. Even though it was dark, she could still make out the shape of Mary’s form.

“No, you had every right to be worried. I know it’s not fair.” She paused. “But Ben always says, we make sacrifices, so others don’t have to.”

Without saying anything, they both knew that they were forgiven. Mary turned to face her friend as well, even though she, too, couldn’t see her.

“Can I ask you something?” Mary asked.

“Of course.”

“Now, I don’t mean to pry—"

“Oh, come on, out with it.”

Mary paused for a moment, thinking of how to phrase it. She was still hesitant though.

“Can I ask you about you and Benjamin?”

“What do you want to know?”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me about him?”

Molly didn’t respond.

“I’m serious.” Mary swallowed. “Why did you keep it from me?”

Molly scoffed, “Well, what was I supposed to say? That I was Whig sympathizer who was just remaining in loyalist Setauket until the rebels won the war and he could come _rescue_ me?”

Mary let out a sigh, now she was sure she had phrased it all wrong.

“No, not _that_. You could’ve told me about him from when you were still engaged. I doubt anyone would’ve been suspicious of that… Abraham told me you and Benjamin were courting and then engaged for nearly two years.”

A beat.

“I lied.” Molly decided. “I don’t want you to ask me anything more.”

“Molly.”

“Mary.”

“The entire time we were friends, you never even told me his name. You never even told me you were engaged. I only knew about it from whispers I heard from the neighbors… And as far as I’m aware, you never corresponded with him. For the entire time he was away… Did you two expect to meet again? …Or, when you called off the engagement the first time, was _that_ when you said your final goodbyes?”

Molly rolled over so that her back was to her friend. She didn’t want to have this conversation.

“Good night, Mary.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm like 90% sure that Madigan is Mary's maiden name. In 3x05, when Mary is practicing shooting, Abe gets excited and calls her that, so I'm assuming.


	37. 4x06

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember how I mentioned that the timeline was wonky? Well, it's at this point where it becomes a true disaster.

**September 1779**

“So, Benedict Arnold’s your hero, then, huh?”

“Not saying he’s a hero, just that he did what any man might, given the circumstances.”

Molly had herself pressed against the canvas of Ben’s tent, listening to the commotion that was happening outside.

“Circumstances? What bloody circumstances?”

“He’s a traitor!”

“What’s this bastard saying?”

That was Caleb’s voice.

Molly glanced over at where Ben was leaning against the table.

“Any moment now.” She whispered, then she went back to eavesdropping.

“We got ourselves an Arnold lover.”

“Is that right, Sergeant?” Caleb asked.

“I don’t love the man. But do understand–”

She heard the sound of fist connecting with flesh. And then the sound of struggling. But that noise was quick drowned out by the shouts of soldiers, who were egging on the altercation.

“Now.” She said.

With that, Ben pushed his shoulders back and stormed out of the tent.

“Lieutenant Brewster, desist! Brewster, desist!” Ben ordered.

Molly sighed and glanced over at where Anna was sat at Ben’s desk. She had been working all morning, transcribing. She had to do so here, there were too many prying eyes back at Mr. Sackett’s cart. Molly and Anna could hear Ben getting involved in the commotion outside.

“Get off! Get off! The both of you with me, now! I said now! Get in!”

A few seconds later, Ben reentered, with Caleb and a second man on his heels

The second man was John Champe. He was the man who Ben had selected to meet Abe in York City. He was the one who would finalize Benedict Arnold’s abduction. John was much younger than the rest of them. He was a shy man, hardly over twenty years old, and he had only been a soldier in the Continental Army for a short time. But his commanding officer spoke highly of him. In a lot of ways, he reminded Molly of Abe and Mary’s son. She imagined Thomas may act like this man when he grew up.

John stayed near the door while Caleb flopped into the nearest chair. His nose was bleeding. Molly went over to him and pressed a handkerchief to his nose.

“All right,” Ben said in a hushed tone, “well, that looked realistic, I think.”

Caleb chuckled.

“I tell you, the boy really packs a punch.”

His voice was muffled by the handkerchief. They noticed John was looking warily at Anna. He had met all of them before, except for Anna.

Ben: “Oh, it’s all right, Sergeant. She’s one of us. Mrs. Strong, this is Sergeant John Champe, of Major Harry Lee’s regiment.”

Anna turned and smiled at the man.

“I’ve heard good things about you, Sergeant.” She said. “Your country thanks you for your service.”

John bowed his head. “Ma’am.”

Ben: “Mrs. Strong will be providing you with a book of false intelligence to take over to the enemy.”

That was what Anna had been transcribing all morning. Ben originally wanted Molly to work on it, but he quickly changed his mind. Molly’s handwriting was sloppy, while Anna’s was always legible.

Ben went on, “You’ll be deserting for the British lines tomorrow night. You’ll have no escort, no guide.”

“A head start’s the best we can give you, Johnny, but then we gotta hunt you down.” Caleb added.

“Major Lee tells me you don’t talk much.”

John shook his head, “No, sir.”

“Right, well, once you’re in New York, you’ll have to do your share of talking. You must convince the enemy not only that _you_ have changed sides, but that others are soon to follow. This will get you close to your target. And remember, we want Arnold alive.”

“I will see it done.” John replied.

He was always very formal. Molly had been there when Ben interviewed the potential candidates. John’s formality did not strike them as peculiar until Ben had officially selected him, and they began meeting privately to discuss the mission. It didn’t matter if they went on a tangent to a topic not related to espionage. John always acted uncomfortable; like he wasn’t used to exchanging pleasantries.

“Our agent will make contact with you in the city.” Ben explained. “He’ll introduce you to our other man in New York, who will signal us when all is ready.”

“How will I know him, sir?”

“He’s in Benedict Arnold’s new regiment, the American Legion. He will respond to the phrase _missing the summer of ’73_. Keep using the phrase and he will approach you.”

John nodded; he understood. They had already been through these details before, but he appreciated being reminded. Truth was, he was scared to death.

“Good, now…” Ben cleared his throat before yelling once more, “Now get out of here, both of you!”

Caleb winked at Molly as he got to his feet and followed John outside.

* * *

By time Molly returned to the camp followers, she found Mary and Mrs. Barnes sewing together. Mrs. Barnes had taken a liking to Mary. When Molly was occupied in other parts of camp, and Mary needed a break, she would ask Mrs. Barnes if she could watch Thomas for short periods of time. Mrs. Barnes enjoyed coddling the boy.

Molly caught a hint of their conversation as she neared.

“The _queen_ , Ms. La-Dee-Da Anna Strong, and her beau, Major Tallmadge—” Mrs. Barnes voice caught in her throat when she caught sight of Molly. “Mrs. Tallmadge! There you are, we’ve been looking for you.” She feigned a smile.

Molly fought the urge to roll her eyes.

When she was absent from camp, a rumor had been circulating among the camp followers that Ben and Anna were having an affair. Molly didn’t blame any of them for thinking so; Anna was always sneaking off to Ben’s tent so they could discuss the ring. But it was still annoying to hear.

Mary had asked her about it during one of her first days in camp. She knew it was a rumor, but Molly could tell that her friend was still uncomfortable to hear the gossip. It was annoying because the other women refused to bring up the subject in front of Molly, and she knew they were talking about her behind her back. But if the gossip was brought up often, Mary didn’t let on, and Molly was glad for it.

“Hello, Mrs. Barnes.” Molly pretended to be ignorant of the rumor.

She joined them on the ground, sitting beside Thomas who was playing with his toy soldiers. And she began mending as well.

* * *

A few days later, Mary had gone off to do something and Molly was watching Thomas.

Thomas had gotten bored writing on his chalkboard, so Molly had grabbed the book she currently had in her bag. It was a collection of poems by Thomas Grey. It was Ben’s copy; he had studied it at university; and she found it in his trunk and borrowed.

While Molly sewed, Thomas enjoyed looking through the pages, looking for familiar words he recognized. But soon that game had evolved into him asking her what every word he _didn’t_ know was.

“Ms. Molly?” He kept tugging on her skirt. “Ms. Molly? What about this word?”

She sighed and took the book from him. She shifted so that he could see the words as she followed along with her finger. The book was opened _Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College_.

“Where did we leave off?” she asked.

He pointed to the second verse. She cleared her throat and read,

_“Ah happy hills, ah pleasing shade,_

_Ah fields beloved in vain,_

_Where once my careless childhood strayed,_

_A stranger yet to pain!_

_I feel the gales, that from ye blow,_

_A momentary bliss bestow,_

_As waving fresh their gladsome wing,_

_My weary soul they seem to soothe,_

_And, redolent of joy and youth,_

_To breathe a second spring._

Molly had always liked this poem. It made her think about Setauket. The next verse:

_Say, Father—"_

“Molly!”

Molly looked up. Mary was walking towards them. Thomas tugged on her shirt for her to continue.

“Hold on.” She told him. “Hi, Mary!”

“I need to talk to you.”

She was beside them now.

“If it’s about Abe, I don’t know anymore than I did yesterday.” Which wasn’t much. Although it had been four months, they still hadn’t heard from him. They were hoping that meeting John Champe in the city would prompt him to make contact.

“Yes, but _I_ do.” She lifted her hand, a copy of _the Gazette_ in hand.

“Look, right here. French raspberry brandy from Rivington’s.”

Molly’s eyes widened. That was the signal from Robert, that Abe had made contact. But Mary wasn’t supposed to know about that.

“I read it only just now, and I went to tell Anna, but she’s not at her cart.” She sighed. “Do you know where she is?”

Molly chewed on her lip for a moment. She knew Anna was probably with Ben; she had probably finished the false codebook by now. But then there was the thing with Mary. She knew none of them had told her about Robert’s signal, so that meant that Abe had told her. But Ben was still adamant that Mary should be as uninvolved as possible, to prevent any security breaches. But Molly trusted Mary. She had to make a decision.

“I know where they are.” She finally said.

* * *

They asked Mrs. Barnes to look after Thomas, and then Molly led her friend into the main camp. But when she got to Ben’s tent, no one was there.

“Will they be back?” Mary asked.

Molly shook her head. She knew where else they might be. “Follow me.”

So they walked back to their camp followers’ side and began to trek through the woods, to the side of camp where the medical tents were… and where the barn was. When they reached the barn, Molly tried the door, but it was locked. She swore. That meant they were inside. She pressed her ear to the door, to make sure they weren’t discussing the Arnold mission. The last thing they needed was Mary knowing all the logistics.

Molly could faintly hear remnants of their conversation.

Anna: “…Since a woman wouldn’t be worth keeping around.”

Ben: “Anna… look, I told Selah that you were needed here.”

Molly’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. _Why were they talking about this?_

Anna: “But you… tell him he could take me back to Philadelphia whenever he wanted?”

Ben: “Well, he can. But he didn’t... maybe…”

Anna: “No, it means he’s changed. He’s not the same man I married.”

Ben: “And does that make you happy or…”

She had heard enough. She pounded her fist on the door.

“I know you two are in there. Open up!”

A few seconds passed and then she could hear the door being unlocked, and Ben’s face appeared as it swung open.

“Molly?”

She pushed past him, annoyed by what she had just overheard. Mary followed on her heels.

“Mary, what are you doing here?” Anna asked.

“French raspberry brandy from Rivington’s.”

She handed the newspaper to Ben, but he ignored it and quickly closed the door behind them.

“You told her?” He was looking at Molly.

“Didn’t need to. Abe beat me to it.”

Ben groaned in frustration and rubbed his temples for a second. Then he turned to Mary.

“Mrs. Woodhull, I have made it very clear to you—”

Mary cut him off, “That women are not allowed in the officers’ tents, I know. Though that rule is broken regularly.” She glanced briefly at Anna.

Anna tried to defend herself.

“Mary—"

“But this isn’t your tent,” Mary continued, “so I haven’t broken your precious rule. You also said _I_ had no right to know of Abe’s whereabouts. But I see that _she_ has that right.”

“You have no—”

Ben began, but that’s when Molly jumped into the conversation.

“What? No _right_? That’s interesting considering the fact you two were just discussing my _brother_ and my _sister-in-law’s_ marriage. Why do I not have the _right_ to know about what you were discussing?” she snapped.

Ben hesitated, unsure what to say.

“Molly, it’s not like that—” Anna tried.

“Anna!” Molly snapped, “Stop talking.”

Anna ignored her though, because then she said.

“Look, we’re being watched. There are spies in camp almost certainly. The fewer people who know of mine and Selah’s problems—”

“I heard what you said about him. Sounding so innocent. _He’s not the same man I married_.” Molly mocked her. “Bullshit, Anna. My brother was wrongly arrested, and he survived for months on _the Jersey_ , and came home to bring you with him, because _he_ didn’t forget about you. But you clearly never had a problem forgetting about him.”

“Molly.” Ben said quietly, reaching for her.

She sidestepped out of his reach.

“I-I’m not having this conversation with you again.” Anna stammered.

“Why? Because I’m here?” Mary asked.

She had been hanging onto every word. She and Molly had never properly discussed the affair, but they knew that each of them was aware of it.

“No, no Mary, because we’re discussing the ring.” Anna replied. Despite everything, somehow, she was keeping her tone calm. “And like I said, we’re being watched. The less people know a secret, the more secret it is, that’s all this is about.”

Molly: “But you weren’t talking about the ring. You were talking about Selah.”

That’s when Mary cut in as well.

“Are you saying that you don’t trust me? _You_ don’t trust me? _You_ , an adulteress how many times over?”

“That’s enough!” Ben’s voice was rising now too.

“You may not care where your husband it, but I do.”

Mary stormed out of the barn. Anna had a hurt expression on her face as she turned her attention back to Molly, who was glaring at her.

“Molly.” She tried to console.

And that’s when Molly hit her. It was one punch, but she hit Anna square in the jaw and Anna crumpled to the ground.

“Molly!” Ben surged forward and held her back before she could swing again.

But Molly wasn’t planning on hitting her again. She had her satisfaction. She watched Anna stumbled to her feet, a hand pressed to her mouth. Her bottom lip was split open, and it was bleeding, and Molly knew it would leave a bruise, and she was glad for it.

“Get out.” Molly said firmly.

Anna glanced at Ben briefly, but then she complied and made her way towards the door as well. They both waited until the door was closed before they spoke.

“What the hell was that?” Ben demanded, releasing her.

“So, what? You’re defending Anna now?” Molly snapped.

“Well, what else was I supposed to do?” he asked. “You hit her.”

“We both know that’s not what I’m talking about.”

She paused for a second, then she continued.

“We both know that we’ve been lying to Selah. Telling him that Anna was back home.” She ran a hand through her hair in frustration. “And I agreed to it. I agreed because Selah asked me to make peace with Anna and _I’ve been trying_. But then she goes behind my back to speak poorly of Selah?” Molly scoffed, “And _you_ agreed to listen to her? Whose side are you on?”

“Side? I’m on no one’s side. There are no sides!”

She rolled her eyes, and the gesture made him want to scream.

“Molly, why are you so obsessed with Anna’s affair? You already admitted it was over. It’s been over for a long time.”

She scoffed bitterly, and then stepped forward and grabbed the collar of his coat.

“Hey!” He exclaimed and grabbed her arm.

“ _I_ am the one who’s obsessed? Is that so? If anyone is obsessed, it’s Anna. She’s the one who refuses to move on.”

“Come on—”

“You know I’m right. Everything that has happened to me has been because of her. We agreed that Abe and I would stay back home. _She_ was supposed to go with you _and_ Selah, but then she jumped from that whaleboat and she has done nothing but cause me frustration—

She stopped herself. And then she thought back to the rumors she heard Mrs. Barnes and Mary discussing, and that’s when the thought came to her.

“Are _you_ have an affair with her?”

“What?” Ben couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Of course not!”

“Then I’ll ask again, _why_ are you so willing to defend her?”

Molly didn’t want to have this conversation, but now that the thought was in her mind, it didn’t seem so crazy to her.

Ben had been acting weird ever since she returned from York City. She had blamed it on his anxieties regarding Arnold and Washington, but now she wondered if it was for a different reason. After all, the rumor about the affair had begun while she was away too. And she also couldn’t help but think back to when they were children.

When they were children, Molly and Ben were in no way attracted to each other. But Molly remembered when her brother and his friends had crushes on other neighbors.

It was no secret that Molly had briefly bullied Anna when they were children. This happened two separate times, and it was for the same reason. Molly had always been a jealous friend. She liked being the only girl when they would go on adventures in the woods, and she hated the idea of other girls joining in.

The first when Molly was ten and the others were eight, and Anna wanted to play with them in the woods. That was the time when Molly teased Anna and made fun of her toys and her clothes. The second time was when Molly was fourteen, and when the boys were twelve. That was the first time she learned about Selah’s crush on Anna. And that was when she learned that the other boys had a crush on her as well.

She remembered how annoyed she had been. That summer, Selah and Caleb and Abe and Ben spent most of their time trying to get a kiss from Anna. Samuel found the entire thing amusing, but Molly disagreed. She spent a lot of time with Samuel that summer, and she remembered how grateful she had been when harvest came, and Caleb stopped chasing after Anna.

Ben sighed, “I am so willing to defend her because she is still a part of this ring. Whether you like it or not.”

“And the rumors?”

Ben rubbed his temples again.

“Anna said it may be best to let the women think what they will. It would at least give her an excuse to visit so frequently.”

She didn’t say anything.

“Whatever they say, I know it’s not true. You know it’s not true…” He didn’t know what else to say. It was clear she was still doubtful though. So he pulled her into a hug. She didn’t fight him, but she didn’t hug back either. “Look, I would never do that to you. I _have_ never done that to you.”

When she looked at him, she knew he was telling the truth. And that’s when she blushed. She was embarrassed. She felt stupid for asking now, because of course it wasn’t true. _Why did I think it was? Do I have so little faith in him?_

She didn’t respond, so they just stood there for a moment in silence. Molly could feel herself slipping, like she had in Setauket. She didn’t know why she let Anna get under her skin so much. But it kept happening, and now she could see the hurt on Ben’s face. And, and…

“I don’t think we should get married anymore.”

She didn’t know why she said that. But she did.

“W-What?”

She pulled away and wordlessly walked out of the barn. After a moment, he composed himself and rushed after her. But when he got outside, she wasn’t there. He looked around, but he had no idea where she had gone.

* * *

Ben felt like he was the one losing his mind now. Since she walked out of the barn, he had been looking for her all day, but he couldn’t find her anywhere. She hadn’t returned to the camp followers, she wasn’t at Anna’s cart, and Caleb hadn’t seen her all day. No one knew where she was.

As if that wasn’t enough, the timing just as bad, for that night was when John Champe was supposed to desert the camp and cross into British lines. And Ben and Caleb were supposed to sound the alarm and follow in pursuit. It was already nightfall. He knew it was going to be a long night, and he knew he needed to rest before. So, he finally called it quits and returned to his tent.

When he walked inside, he did a doubletake. Molly sat cross-legged on his cot. She looked over at him.

“Hey.” She said quietly.

“Wha— Where have you been?”

She shrugged.

“Here.” She paused, “I’m sorry for what I said.” She had always hated apologizing. “I didn’t mean it. I regretted it as soon as I said it.”

He took a seat beside her on the cot.

“Well, why would you say it in the first place? And why would you accuse me of having an—” He didn’t even want to say it.

“I shouldn’t have said that either. I was angry and…” her voice trailed off.

Another pause.

“I know. You’ve been angry a lot lately.”

She refused to meet his gaze.

“I know the blame is mine.” He said.

“What? No Ben—”

“The blame is both of ours. You agree with that?”

She nodded.

“Did you mean what you said? About us not getting married?”

“I thought that’s what you might want, after what I did.” Her voice was barely a whisper now.

A smirk tugged at his lips, “It _was_ a good punch.”

She pushed against him slightly, but she was struggling to hide her grin.

“Don’t you know that’s the opposite if what I want?”

“Why though?”

Ben blinked. The entire time he had known her, she never had low self-esteem. In fact, the only time he had ever seen her truly doubt herself was last year after she found him in the woods, and after she first came to camp. He still wasn’t used to seeing it.

“Why did you wait for me?” he countered.

 _Because I love you_. She thought. But she had always been hesitant to say it. Even when they were originally engaged, she rarely said it. But when she did say it, she meant it. She didn’t need to say it though, because her actions spoke for her. He knew it was true.

They were staring at each other now. And when she looked at him, she knew he was thinking the same thing. Without a word, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. He pulled away slightly, but then she leaned herself forward as well to keep them connected. And the familiar warmth rushed through their bodies.

They weren’t sure when they made the decision, but next thing they knew, both of them were half-dressed. Molly was on her back with her skirts hiked up to her waist. She quietly gasped as she felt Ben’s hands roam from her hips to her stomach. But that was quickly replaced by the weight of Ben himself as he pressed himself down on top of her. She moaned in approval and shifted so that he was laying between her legs, and she had her legs bent and on either side of his torso.

Her hands were knotted in his hair, following his movements as he trailed kisses from her mouth, down her neck, and to her chest. She could feel her blush deepening as he moved lower down her body. He had already pulled his shirt off, and she wanted nothing more than to pull off her own shift so that she could feel his skin against hers.

But she was soon glad they hadn’t gotten that far, because a sudden voice joined them.

“Oi, Ben— Shite!”

Both of them gasped and pulled away from each other. They turned to the entrance of the tent where Caleb Brewster was stood. He had his eyes averted, but he was still standing there.

“Caleb, what the hell?” Ben rasped.

“Listen, sorry to interrupt, but we’ve got an issue.”

“And it can’t wait?” Molly asked.

“It’s about Johnny.”

Molly and Ben quickly untangled themselves and began to pull their clothes back into place.

“The plan was working fine. I saw Johnny receive the newest dispatches and get on his horse acting like he was making way to deliver them.” Caleb explained. “But as he was leaving, the scouts happened to be returning for the night. And one of the bastards saw our fight the other day, and he signaled the alarm. I said I’d come find you and we’d head out.”

Ben swore. This would mean that John wouldn’t get the head start they were hoping for. There was a very real possibility that they could catch up with him. Ben quickly pulled on the rest of his uniform. Caleb was outside waiting for him, and Molly was stood beside him, with her arms folded across her chest. She was still only in her shift.

“Good luck.” She said.

“I’ll be back.”

* * *

The pursuit of John Champe proved to be just as unsuccessful as they were hoping for. John was able to cross the British lines and defect. The hiccups in the plan were quickly forgotten. And the next morning, for the first time in a long time, Ben and Molly awoke beside each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I intended to have a section of this season show Molly/Anna making up. But then I rewatched 4x06, and Anna's comments about Selah reaffirmed my dislike towards her. So, out of sheer pettiness, I decided to scrap my redemption arc.
> 
> I don't know if anyone cares, but I worked really hard to have this season mirror Season 1. In Season 1, Molly was always the one without power bc she didn't really have anyone. It was Abe/Anna and then Abe/Mary against Molly and hiding things from her. But this season... to quote Michael Scott, "Well, well, well, oh how the turntables". Now it's Ben/Molly who have more power over characters like Anna and Mary. Idk, it really doesn't matter, but I enjoy the parallels.
> 
> Also, apologies that the romance has been taking such a dive lately. I underestimated how exposition-heavy Season 4 is. On the bright side, please refer to "Things We Lost in the Fire" for this chapter's more in-depth saucy scene ;)


	38. 4x07

**June 1781**

Molly could feel the eyes of the other camp followers on her. She felt this every time she returned to their section of camp. At first, she was self-conscious of their prying eyes. After all, it was obvious she had not been on their side of camp that night, and it was obvious she had returned from spending the night at Ben’s tent. Typically, if she decided to stay the night, she would be sure to be back at her tent either right before or right at dawn. But that morning, they had both overslept.

She found Mary and Thomas at their tent.

“Morning.”

Molly could already feel the blush rising to her face. It had only happened a few times now, but she hated returning to their tent when Mary was already awake. Mary never said anything, but Molly still felt weird about everything. After all, Mary hadn’t seen her husband in months now. But this morning, it was different. As soon as Mary heard her voice, she reached out and put a hand on Molly’s arm, and she whispered so that only she could hear.

“We have a problem. I need to talk to you and Benjamin.”

* * *

They had to wait until nightfall. They left Thomas with Anna – whom they decided to exclude from this meeting – and snuck away to the barn. When they stepped inside, Ben was waiting for them, with a lantern in hand.

“Were you followed?” he asked.

They weren’t.

“What do you have to tell us?”

Mary looked between the two of them for a second.

“There’s a spy amongst the camp followers working for the British.”

“What?” Molly gasped. “Who?”

“How do you know?”

Mary glanced at Ben warily and chose to answer his question first. The two of them had come to an understanding, but they still didn’t necessarily get along.

“She revealed her true intentions and her true name to me when she learned I was hiding mine.”

Ben quietly swore.

“Wait, she knows who _you_ are?” Molly asked.

Mary nodded. Ben couldn’t believe how fortunate they were that only the spy discovered Mary’s true background and not one of the other camp followers. If it had been anyone else, Mary could’ve been accused of being a spy.

“Who is she?” Ben asked.

Mary hesitated.

“What’s wrong?” Molly asked.

“What do I get in return?”

“Mary!”

Ben scoffed, “How about _you_ won’t be charged with treason?

Mary let out an exasperated sigh.

“I’ll serious. Now, I do not think it is much to ask, but I want to know more about Abe’s mission in the city.”

“We’ve been over this. The less you know about the details, the better.”

“Aye, and especially now.” Ben agreed. “What if you slip up? Tell this spy something they can use against us… against Abe.”

Mary had never been satisfied with that reasoning. It had been a year and a half, and she knew that they’d hardly heard word from him. Ben and Molly both claimed he was safe, and that his position as a redcoat was secure.

Abe had spent his time in the city for the past year and a half training and then serving as a local sentry. Few soldiers in Benedict Arnold’s regiment were allowed to work directly with the General. Just like when Molly was in the city, Arnold’s regiment was in name only; a formality to disguise the embarrassment of the British high command. Everyone missed John Andre.

But it didn’t change the fact that Mary hadn’t seen him in a year and a half. She felt as if she was going mad, knowing so little. She didn’t know how Molly or Ben lived like this when the war first started. Mary was constantly talking about Abe with Molly and Thomas. She didn’t know how Molly managed to avoid mentioning Ben’s name the entire time she was living in British occupied Setauket.

“Please,” she said. She was looking at Molly now. She knew that was the only person she could appeal to. “Molly, please. I just want to know that the mission is going well. That he will be home soon.”

Molly growled in frustration. She loved her friend, but she couldn’t believe she was being so stubborn. She understood though.

For the last year and a half, Molly often felt as if she was being useless to the cause. She didn’t know how Ben could stand being the head of intelligence. Being the one _not_ out in the field. Being the one waiting for reports that may never come. Sending reports that may never come. She found it infuriating, but there was nothing she could do about it.

“Fine.” Molly hissed. “We have no idea when Abe will be coming back. We sent a man into the city a year ago to support him on his mission and then bring him home. But we haven’t heard from either of them in weeks.”

“A year ago? Wait, is the man the defector everyone was talking about?”

“Aye.”

Ben swore again, but it was more out of annoyance. He still didn’t fully trust Mary.

It was different for him; he hardly knew her; she was Molly’s friend, not his. In Ben’s mind, the only reason the ring worked was because all the members knew each other so well. Molly was to be his wife, Caleb and Abe and even Anna were his childhood friends. Although Ben had never met Robert Townsend, he trusted Abe’s discretion. But it was different with Mary because she was not an official member of the ring. She was just an outsider who wanted more information on their operations. Molly’s friend or not, that posed as a threat to all of them.

“But I don’t understand, why is it taking so long for him to make contact?” Mary asked.

“These things take time. Our man had to both defect _and_ find Abe inside of the city. Once they find each other, then Abe has to find the time to contact _another_ one of our men. And _he’s_ the one who writes to us.”

“That’s the man at Rivington’s, yes?”

Molly rolled her eyes.

“You know I won’t answer that, Mary. Now do you have satisfaction? Do you have a name to give us or not?”

“Alright, I’m sorry. Her name is Ann Bates. You know her as _Ann Barnes_.”

Molly laughed aloud.

“Mrs. Barnes?”

She could hardly comprehend it. The women who frequently looked after Thomas was a Tory spy.

Mary nodded and looked at Ben, “And she knows _you_ run intelligence for Washington. And she thinks you and Anna Strong are lovers, and that your _wife_ and I are friendly. She asks I get any information that I can from you.”

Molly had come to terms that, as long as they were in camp, the gossip about Ben and Anna wasn’t going to go away.

“Who does she report to?” Ben asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Is she working with anyone else in the camp?”

“I don’t know. I suggest you arrest her and ask her.”

Mary was surprised when neither of them responded. She could tell that they were both mulling over the information, and then Molly leaned over and whispered something to Ben, and he nodded.

“I didn’t look for this. It just happened.” Mary added nervously.

 _That makes two of us_ , Molly thought.

“What will happen to her?

“Nothing.” Ben shrugged, “I’m not going to arrest her.”

“What?”

“She’s targeting our network, but we know nothing about hers. If we take her now, then it might warn the others.”

Molly nodded, “Mary, you have to keep this ruse up. Find out who else she’s working with.”

Mary laughed aloud, finding the entire idea absurd.

“I have to—I am not her spy or _your_ spy.”

Ben disagreed.

“You wanted to be more involved. You want more information on Abraham. Well, this is how you’re more involved.”

Molly nodded, “Like you said, Mary, _what do I get in return_? That’s the way this ring’s always worked. You help us get more information, we’ll tell you more details about Abe’s mission.”

“But…” Mary stammered, “Me? A spy? Why is that better?”

“We don’t know how long she’s been in camp or what she knows.” Ben explained, “It’s possible that she or one of her allies already has something on Abe and just hasn’t put it together yet.”

“I think she’s working alone.”

“Well, if you can confirm that, then we’ll all breathe a little easier. Can you confirm it?”

“No. I can’t confirm it.” She paused.

Mary glanced between the two of them again. As much as she didn’t like it, they were right. Mrs. Barnes could have information on Abe. As much as she and Abe had had their disagreements during the war, he was still her husband and Thomas’ father. She would do everything she could to protect him; that’s what she had been doing all this time.

“All right. Tell me what to do.”

* * *

A week passed, and there was still no word from Mary regarding Mrs. Barnes. Molly had purposely been finding excuses to not be with Mary. She knew it would give Mary more opportunities to speak with Mrs. Barnes. For the past few days, Molly had been spending a lot of time at the sutler cart with Anna.

Tension was still high between them, and the two women hardly spoke. Anna had still not fully come to forgive Molly for punching her, but Molly didn’t care. Over the past months they had come to a mutual understanding: They did not like each other, and they would probably never like each other. But, for as long as they needed to, they would tolerate each other.

Molly had moved her pile of clothes to where she was sat beside the cart. She still didn’t understand why the other women left her with so much sewing. Her hands ached and the tips of her fingers were raw from where she’d pricked herself with the needle countless times.

She yelped in surprise, losing her grip in the needle and swearing as it fell into the dirt. A newspaper had been dropped in her lap. She shot a glare at the person in front of her. It was Anna.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“Look at the advertisement.”

Molly picked up the paper and scanned the front page. In the center of the page was an advertisement from Hercules Mulligan’s tailor shop. Mulligan had been working with Robert for the last few months. Robert wrote to them to verify Mulligan’s loyalties. The advertisement read: _Lace cravats in three varieties_. Molly’s eyes widened. That was the signal.

She looked back up at Anna, her mouth slightly agape.

“That’s the correct one, right? I just want to be certain.”

“Aye. It is… is this today’s paper?” Molly brushed her own question off. That didn’t matter. She was getting ahead of herself. She pushed herself to her feet and handed the newspaper back to Anna. “Bring this to Ben, right now. I’ll cover for you here.”

Anna nodded and made her way into the main camp.

 _Lace cravats in three varieties_. That was the signal. It meant that John Champe had made contact with Abraham Woodhull. It meant that Abe had contacted Robert Townsend, who, in turn, had told Hercules Mulligan to post the advertisement. Everything was planned. They were going to abduct Benedict Arnold.

* * *

“Molly!”

She looked up. She had moved from her place on the ground to leaning over one of the tables beside the cart. The tables were filled with an array of goods and trinkets that the camp followers and soldiers bartered for. She lowered her hands, still clutching the fabric and needle in her hands, as she watched Ben walking towards her, with Teddy Beddows in tow.

“Hi, Ted.”

He was one of Caleb’s privateer friends. In fact, it was Teddy Beddows’ contact who was responsible for betraying Caleb and having his captured by the redcoats. Teddy had felt terrible about the incident ever since, and he was still trying to make it up to Caleb.

They were in front of her now and she straightened upright. Ben gestured to Teddy.

“You tell her.”

Teddy began, “Hi Ms. Moll. Caleb asked me to be his second rower for some sort of mission. Said I should ready meself to leave at any time. Well, he tells me about the signal, and I met him when he said to. But he’s not ready to go. I tried to get him to, but I don’t even think he can. He’s out of sorts.”

Ben nodded, “Apparently he’s drunk and wild.”

“What?”

Molly was having a hard time comprehending. It didn’t make sense. She knew Caleb enjoyed drinking, but so did she, and so did Ben. She didn’t think he would intentionally get drunk when he had the mission to think about.

“He says it’s bad.” Ben added. “I think you better come along.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but she began tripping over her words.

“I told Anna I’d mind the cart.” She finally said.

“Forget about the cart. I saw Anna heading over this way. Come on!”

She didn’t need to be told twice.

* * *

The three of them were walking down a grassy field. They were on the other side of camp which was beside the Hudson River. They could see the shape of Caleb’s whaleboat in the water, but there was no sign of Caleb. But then they realized he was sitting with his back against a tree beside the bay. As they got nearer, Caleb called out.

“Benny boy! Do you know how handsome you are in that uniform?”

His speech was slurred. Molly slowed her pace, suddenly unsure of what to make of everything. If she knew anything, it was that Caleb could hold his liquor. She hadn’t seen him this drunk since they were teenagers.

They were standing in front of him now. Caleb was chuckling to himself, his head bobbing slightly. He looked delirious.

“You know what, Tallboy, we need to get you and Moll married before the war ends. Because the good Lord don’t take too kindly to you twos laying together before marriage.”

He had only ever walked in on them once, but he never let them forget it. Molly blushed furiously, and that only made Caleb burst out into more laughter.

“You find this funny, do you?” Ben asked. “Yeah? Shirking your responsibilities.” He grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and gave him a rough shake. “Get off your sorry arse and face me!”

Caleb stopped laughing.

“You’re derelict of duty and you’re lucky if I don’t choose to have you court martialed. You hear me?”

“Get off.” Caleb mumbled.

Ben gave him another shove before letting go, “What have you got to say for yourself? Huh?”

“I did this to save the mission, all right?” Caleb slurred. He was still clutching a flask in his one hand.

“Oh? And how does this save the mission?” Molly countered. Her voice was strained, and her throat felt tight. She hated to see her friend like this.

“You’re better off without me. You all are.”

Ben and Molly half talked over each other.

“What are you even talking about?”

“Can you hear yourself?”

Caleb set his jaw and glared up at them.

“No, I can’t hear meself!” he roared.

Molly flinched at the sudden mood swing. Caleb kept yelling.

“All I hear is Simcoe! He’s in there! He won! I can’t stop seeing that bastard’s face when he thanked me for giving up my friends!”

He took another drink.

Ben and Molly exchanged a look. Neither of them knew what to say.

“Caleb… Caleb, listen to me. That never happened.” Ben finally said.

They had had this conversation countless times. But Caleb never became emotional like he was now.

Caleb started crying then.

“Caleb, look at me. That never…” Ben tried to console him. But he stopped himself, “You know, you could have told me sooner.” Ben turned to Molly again and leaned in to whisper to her. “We can’t botch this mission. I’ll go find another rower. You try talking to him.”

She nodded and watched Ben and Teddy as they began to walk back in the direction of camp. When they were out of earshot, she turned her attention back towards Caleb.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” she asked.

He had stopped crying, but now he was sniffling.

“What? You’re saying you _don’t_ think about that night?” he mumbled.

She sighed and took a seat on the ground across from him. She snatched the flask away from him and took a swig before handing it back.

“No, I do. I…” she stopped herself.

“What?”

The truth was, the two of them hadn’t spoken about that night since it happened. She knew their friendship hadn’t been the same since that night, and she hated that. She had assumed it was because he was still embarrassed that Simcoe had revealed his previous crush. She had blamed it as that.

They didn’t talk like they used to, and she knew she spent most of her time with Mary and Ben. And, with Washington’s strict orders still in place, it was harder to either of them to visit each other on their sides of camp. But she never even considered it may be because of something like this.

“I do think about it, but I’m trying hard not to.”

“Does Ben know?”

She scoffed, feeling tears beginning to well in her eyes.

“No. I-I don’t want to talk to him about it.”

“Why not?”

She huffed in frustration and smacked him on the arm.

“Because Caleb Brewster, that night I felt the same way I did when I thought my brother was dead. I thought _you_ were going to die. I thought _I_ was going to die. I was scared to death.” She paused to wipe away the tear that was falling down her cheek. “I didn’t want you to do that, you know.”

He stared at her blankly.

“I didn’t want you to volunteer to be branded by a hot iron. Alright? I could’ve taken it.”

“No, you couldn’t.”

She glared at him, but he wasn’t trying to lighten the mood. He was dead serious.

“Besides, what does _that_ have to do with anything that is happening right now? You’ve been fine the last year and a half.”

He shook his head, “No I’m not. I just didn’t tell you lot.”

That explained the drinking. He had hidden that from them as well.

“You don’t get it, do you Moll? I can’t ride. I can’t shoot. I can’t even throw me axe. And it’s all because of what happened that night.”

She had not been angry with Caleb in a very long time, but she could feel the rage building inside her. She wanted to feel sorry for him, but she couldn’t, because he was jeopardizing all of _this_ , all of _them_. She leaned forward and said bitterly.

“Ben’s right. Damn you, Caleb Brewster. Damn you for not telling us sooner. For not telling _me_ sooner.”

She got to her feet and walked away without another word.

* * *

When she got back to the edge of camp, she found Teddy Beddows stood there.

“How is he?”

“Damn him.” Molly said. “Where’s Ben?”

“He’s taking Caleb’s place. Went off to his tent to throw on different clothes.”

Molly hurried across camp and pushed open the flaps to Ben’s tent. He was half dressed, trying to pull on civilian clothes.

“Do you mind?”

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Listen, we don’t have time to be democratic about this. They were supposed to already be gone. And if we’re not there for the drop…” he sighed. “How is he?”

“Bad. He’s bad. He claims he’s been out of sorts ever since we got back.” She chewed on her lip, still thinking about their conversation.

“And what? I know you two were tortured, but _you’ve_ never said a word about it either. Have I just been a complete ass? Or do you ever think about it?”

She shook her head. He knew she was lying, but he wasn’t going to question her. They didn’t have time.

“So what?” she asked. “You and Ted are rowing down the Hudson instead?”

He nodded, buttoning up the last buttons on his coat.

“With any luck, we should all we back at camp by morning. Me, Teddy, Abe, John, Arnold… all of us.”

“Good luck.”

He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. It was a fleeting kiss because they didn’t have the time. And then he was gone, and she was left standing alone in the tent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm not the only one unsatisfied with Season 4. I'm about 90% sure that TURN got cancelled by the network, but somehow the creators managed to scrap together a series finale so we wouldn't be left with a cliffhanger. While I appreciate the ending for what it is, no one can deny that the timejumps in Season 4 are ridiculous. I have cross-referenced all my notes regarding timestamps and the historical events that are mentioned in the show to when those events actually happened, and I've done this at least a dozen times while rewriting Season 4. There's no way around it. This is what I have to work with, so I hope you'll understand that that is why the narrative is taking a bit of a dive :/


	39. 4x08

It was the next day. As soon as Ben and Teddy returned from the mission, Ben found Molly and told her to gather everyone in the barn and that he would meet them there. He didn’t say anymore. Molly, Mary, and Anna had been waiting for nearly an hour. Mary was getting worried, if the three of them were gone much longer, Mrs. Barnes could become suspicious. But as soon as she thought that, the barn door opened, and Ben stepped inside. He was dressed in his uniform again.

“Sorry I’m late.”

“Where’s Caleb?” Molly asked.

“I’ve made the executive decision: He’s out.”

“What?” Anna and Mary asked.

Molly hadn’t told them about what happened.

“I’ll tell you later.” She whispered to them and that seemed to appease them for now.

She didn’t like that decision, but she also didn’t see any other option. They could talk about it later.

“Well?” Anna asked.

They were all anxious to hear about what happened. After all, Benedict Arnold should be in camp right now. Ben sighed and looked away for a second.

“There’s been a…” he paused looking for the right word.

Molly knew what that pause meant.

“They aren’t in camp, are they?”

“What?” Mary exclaimed.

“What happened?”

So, Ben told them. When he and Teddy Beddows arrived at the dock, Abe and John were supposed to be waiting for them, with Benedict Arnold in tow. But when they arrived, no one was there. The only thing in the harbor were two British naval ships. Ben walked along the dock until he found two sailors and he asked them if they knew what was going on. The men said that the redcoats were under General Arnold’s command and that they were shipping out to Virginia.

“Virginia?!” Mary exclaimed. “She was shaking her head frantically. “But I thought you planned his capture in New York.”

“Yes, we were. Then he shipped out in the middle of the night, the same night that we were set to grab Arnold.”

Molly swore and then stepped forward to pull Mary into a hug.

“And now Abraham has gone with him?” Anna asked.

Ben nodded.

“And John?” Molly asked.

He nodded again. She was concerned for John as much as she was concerned with Abe. John hadn’t signed on for this. He was just as much over his head as well,

“Well you, well, then you need to get him.” Mary was close to tears. “You need to get him right away. You need to get him out.”

“I will.” Ben paused, “I plan to leave tonight.”

“What?”

The three women all talked at once, but Ben rose his voice so he could be heard.

“But listen to me. I cannot leave while there is still an active threat in this camp, so you need to tell me if Ann Bates is working alone or if there are others?”

Molly released Mary and grabbed Ben’s arm.

“Since when are you leaving? When did you decide that?”

“Wait. Hold on.” Anna spoke up. “Who’s Ann Bates?”

Molly swore again.

“Ann Barnes.” She said. “Mrs. Barnes is a British spy. Mary’s been giving us information on her. Trying to see if there are other spies in camp.”

Anna’s mouth was agape.

“And how long you known of this?”

“A couple weeks.” Ben admitted.

“And no one was going to tell me?”

Molly tilted her head slightly. It was strange to hear Anna say that. Molly remembered saying those same words years ago when she had been excluded by Abe and Anna in Setauket.

“ _The less people who know a secret, the more secret it is_.” Mary said, repeating the words Anna had used on them so long ago.

Anna’s cheeks reddened, but she didn’t say anything.

“Now, what’s this about you leaving _tonight_?” Mary asked.

“Aye, I have to. It’s the only way to ensure I arrive in Virginia before Arnold’s men do. Now, I’m going to need your answer before I leave. Is Ann Bates working alone?”

“I don’t know yet.” she admitted. “I need a little more time.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but that’s all the time I can give you. I need an answer.”

Molly tugged on Ben’s arm.

“Hold on a minute.” She said. “ _You_ can’t go.”

“I have to. No one else knows Abe’s identity. No one else knows his true allegiance. I’m the only one who can vouch for him.”

“No, she’s right.”

Anna joined the conversation once more.

“What?” he asked.

“Molly’s right.” Anna repeated. “Listen, Ben, _you_ are Washington’s Head of Intelligence. If you leave against orders, you’ll be branded a traitor, a deserter.”

“I know that. But what other choice do I have?”

“What about Caleb? Send Caleb.”

Ben groaned aloud at the idea.

“What?” Anna said. “What? What else have you been keeping from me?”

Molly looked over at her.

“Caleb’s not well.”

“Aye. He nearly botched the mission with Champe. He was so drunk last night when we were set to take Arnold… Simcoe has gotten into his head.”

Anna looked to the side for a moment. She was chewing on her lip, thinking. Finally, she said.

“We have known Caleb our entire lives. As long as we… as long as _you_ _two_ ,” She was looking at Ben and Molly, “treat him as a broken man, he will be broken. Give him your trust as a friend, and he will earn it back.”

Before Molly could say anything, Ben made the decision for them.

“You’re right. I am still Head of Intelligence. I’ll have to resign my post.”

He pulled his arm free from Molly’s grip and began to walk out of the barn. Mary and Anna gave Molly the same look, and she knew what she had to do. She rushed after him.

Once outside, Ben was confidently walking back in the direction of the man camp.

“Ben! …Ben!”

He wouldn’t even glance back at her.

“Ben!”

She ran to catch up with him so that she was beside him. But she quickly fell behind again. He refused to slow his pace.

“Benjamin Tallmadge, you talk to me right now!”

“I am listening to you, but I _won’t_ slow down.” He called back.

She swore under her breath and walked behind him.

“Why are you so adamant that you must be the one to go?”

“I have to. There’s no other option.”

She was walking beside him again.

“Yes, there is. Why not just tell Washington about this? Perhaps he could send men to ambush them. And provide Abe with an opportunity to escape to our lines.”

He looked over at her and lowered his voice.

“You think we haven’t tried that. Listen, myself and the other officers have been proposing to send men South for years. But Washington refuses every time. He is adamant… no, he is obsessed with taking New York. He argues that the war cannot be won without it.”

Ben had stopped telling her about his officers’ meetings years ago. She had not personally spoken to Washington in years, but she couldn’t understand why the loss of New York and Arnold’s betrayal were still affecting him so. That was a long time ago.

“What, and no one can tell him that?”

“Men have tried. He won’t listen.”

“Well, is he right? Is New York essential for a Patriot victory?”

Ben slowed his pace finally, and she was grateful for it.

“In my opinion, no. We don’t need New York. If we could take control of the remainder of the colonies, and isolate the British to New York, I believe _that_ is how we achieve victory.”

“And have _you_ told him that?”

Ben knew she was going to ask him that, and he suddenly regretted telling her. He tightened his jaw.

“No, I have not.”

“Well, why not?”

He didn’t respond.

“Surely, if he will listen to anyone, he will listen to you. You’re his Head of Intelligence of God’s sake.”

He remained silent. She huffed in frustration but changed the subject.

“If you resign your post, who will take over?”

“I expect Hamilton.”

She scoffed, “ _Alexander Hamilton_?”

“Aye.”

“What makes you think any of us would trust him as Head of Intelligence. Ben, _I_ hardly know the man. And the others have never met him.”

“He’s Washington’s aide-de-camp. He’s known about our work for some time now, and I believe he can be trusted.”

She reached out and grabbed his arm again, pulling him back. He finally stopped walking, and they faced each other now.

“What about me? If you resign, then what is my purpose for being here?”

“The _ring_ is your purpose. I’ll tell Hamilton the reason for my resignation, and I’ll ask him to look after you in camp.”

“No.”

“Wha— Molly!”

“If you go, I am going with you. I am tired of us being constantly being separated.”

“Molly, we have been with each other these last two years.”

“I don’t care. If you are truly going to Virginia, you’ll be walking through enemy-held territory. You’ll be risking yourself by going to the front lines. And if you choose to do that, I want to go to with you.”

“Molly, you will only slow me down. You can’t go.”

She blinked away the tears forming in her eyes.

“Listen to me.” He took her face in his hands. “I am doing this for Abraham. Alright? Listen, Molly, he’s been involved than anyone else. This entire thing, the ring, was only supposed to be me, him, and Caleb. It’s _my_ fault he’s involved, and _I_ will see to it that he survives this. I owe him that much.”

They looked at each other for a second.

“Now go tell Mary that I meant what I said. She has until tonight to get information on Bates. And before I leave, I will see to it that she is arrested.”

* * *

Molly went back to the barn and was glad to find Anna and Mary still there.

“You talked to him?” Anna asked.

“Aye.”

“And?”

“He’s made up his mind. He refuses to be convinced.”

Anna put a hand to her forehead. She could feel her nervous headache becoming more intense.

“I still don’t understand. Why can’t we ask Caleb?” she asked.

“He won’t listen to me.” Molly admitted. “We argued and… I don’t know. I think he’s still mad at Ben and I.”

“Well, I’ll go talk to him.”

Molly nodded. She knew Caleb would be better suited to go find Abe. His time as a sailor and privateer meant he was familiar with the Southern colonies. She also knew it would be easier for Caleb to ask around and find out exactly where Arnold’s regiment landed in Virginia. It wasn’t that she doubted Ben’s ability, but it was just that Caleb had always been the more charismatic of the two. But that wouldn’t work now. Ben was the only option. _Unless_ …

“Wait a minute.” Molly gestured to Anna to stay.

“What is it?”

“Wait, I have an idea.”

Molly turned her attention to Mary.

“Mary. I know we don’t have much time, and I know you still need to speak with Mrs. Barnes. But will you do us a favor?”

Mary looked at the two Strong women warily.

“What is it?”

“I need you to speak with Caleb.”

Mary chuckled, but her smile faded when she saw that Molly was being serious.

“What? _Me_? Molly, he doesn’t like me.”

“Oh, no, Mary, he does. More than you think.”

“I fear he is still angry with me for the incident with the Rangers.”

“Do you know which of us fought the hardest to get you to camp?” Anna asked.

Mary shook her head.

“Aye. It was Caleb.” Molly agreed. She still remembered the night they had that conversation.

Anna nodded, “Caleb still blames himself. He still believes he was the one who told Simcoe that Abe is Culper. He feared what would happen to you and Thomas if he did not collect you from Setauket immediately.”

“Mary, please. We need your help.”

* * *

Molly had been at waiting with Anna at the sutler cart for hours now. She was nervously helping with the trading and bartering, trying to keep herself busy. She was too nervous to mend clothing. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

It was nearly nightfall when Mary made an appearance at the tent.

“Well?” Anna asked.

Mary glanced back at the camp followers’ tents for a moment. She looked nervous. She knew she couldn’t be seen talking to them for very long.

“I talked to Caleb. He agreed to do it.”

Molly laughed aloud and pulled Mary into a hug.

“How did you manage?”

“I just told him that Abe would do the same for him.” She paused, and then recited a line from the Bible, “‘Whatsoever ye shall ask in prayer, believing ye shall receive.’”

Molly tilted her head to the side.

“And that helped convince him?”

“Yes. It did.”

 _Strange_. Molly thought.

Their entire time growing up, Caleb was also vocal about how boring he found Sunday sermons. He did not find Reverend Tallmadge boring; it was more the idea of sitting in the pews for a couple hours at a time. If it hadn’t been for his friendship with Ben, Molly was sure he would’ve stopped going long before. But, despite that, Caleb had never been one for Scripture.

“Is he with Ben now?” she asked.

Mary shook her head.

“No. He left hours ago.”

Molly’s expression fell. He hadn’t said goodbye. And now, if anything went wrong, the last conversation she had had with him was their argument. She suddenly felt nauseous. But that would have to wait, because Mary continued.

“Also.” She lowered her voice. “Tell Benjamin that Ann Bates _is_ working alone. And that her contact in the Royal Army is General Clinton himself.”

* * *

Anna remained at her cart, Mary went back to her tent and Thomas, and Molly walked further into camp, to Ben’s tent. When she stepped into the tent, Ben was not alone. Hamilton was there as well. The men were looking over a series of maps laid out on the main table. They were talking in hushed tones.

“Good evening, Mrs. Tallmadge.” Hamilton smiled.

She nodded, “Colonel.” Before turning to Ben. “Is it safe to talk in front of him?”

“Aye, come in.”

She repeated what Mary told her.

“My God.” Hamilton breathed, “I’ll go round up some men. See that she’s brought in for questioning.”

“No, wait!” Ben said.

“What? Why are we waiting this time?” Molly asked.

Ben and Hamilton exchanged a look.

“I know about Caleb.” She said. “I know you’re not going to resign. So tell me, what is the new plan?”

“I spoke with Washington, like you suggested.” Ben said.

Molly noticed Hamilton’s expression turn to one of surprise. He didn’t comment on it though.

“About what?”

“About going South.”

Ben kept eyeing Hamilton. He hadn’t told anyone about how involved Molly was with everything. Hamilton knew she transcribed letters back at Middlebrook, but that position had been attributed to her brief service at the Battle of Monmouth. It was considered a courtesy and nothing more. Although Hamilton had known her since then, Ben still wasn’t quite sure what his reaction would be to this.

“You did?”

She looked as surprised as she sounded.

“Yes,” Hamilton said slowly, “the General is considering alternative strategies at the moment.” He gestured towards the maps on the table. That was what he and Ben were working on. “But there is, of course, the issue with how to evade British troops if we are to send men South.”

“Aye.” Ben agreed, but then he paused as a thought came to him. He turned to Hamilton. “Wait, our main concern is how to convince the high command in New York the relocate or recall their troops.”

Molly caught on to what he was suggesting.

“And General Clinton is in New York as part of the high command.” She said.

“Exactly.”

Hamilton was eyeing the both of them now.

“So...” he said slowly. “We need only convince the British we’re to head to New York… but we never do?”

Ben nodded, trying to suppress the smile tugging on his lips. Of all things, he never thought Mary Woodhull’s intelligence would amount to something like this.

“Colonel.” He said. “I think I know how we can convince Clinton that we intend to attack the city. And we won’t need to move a single man to do it.”

“I’ll wake the General.”


	40. 4x09

By the end of the week, Washington had decided that Ben and Hamilton’s strategy looked the most promising. However, it was not official. First, they had to see if Ben’s idea would work.

Ben said that they could convince Clinton that the Continental Army would attack New York without moving a single one of their soldiers. His plan was to used Mrs. Barnes. Rather than arrest her, he would write a letter. Molly and Anna managed to get more information from Mary throughout the week; but she was still being closely watched by Mrs. Barnes.

From what Mary had said, Mrs. Barnes had spent most of her time focusing on the nonexistent affair between Ben and Anna. She believed that Ben would slip up and reveal something to his mistress rather than his wife. So, that’s what Ben intended to do. They would have Mary pass on the false intelligence to Mrs. Barnes soon.

Molly and Anna were in Ben’s tent. He was at his desk writing, Anna was slowly pacing, and Molly was sat at the table drinking coffee. They had purposely kept the details vague from Anna, mostly because they knew she would question their judgement. But it didn’t matter. She was still pacing nervously, trying to second guess their plan.

“Maybe Clinton will call on troops to fortify the city.” Ben offered, trying to reassure her.

“If he believes the letter.” Anna countered.

“He will.”

“What did you write in it that was so compelling?”

“Oh, it’s, nothing of importance.”

Anna stopped, and turned to face him.

“Then why the secrecy?” she asked.

Ben glanced over at Molly. She hid her smirk by taking another drink of coffee.

“Well, if you must know,” he said slowly, “it’s a love letter.”

“From?”

“From _me_ … to _you_.”

Anna’s grin faded in an instant. She looked at Molly.

“This was your idea?” she asked.

Molly shook her head.

“Not mine.”

“No, it was mine.” Ben admitted. “Well, mine and Mary’s. You said yourself there was gossip. I merely wrote to what Ann Bates already believed.”

Anna’s anxieties disappeared once she heard that, and she actually smiled.

“Well, now you have to tell me something.” She said playfully. “How much experience do you have writing love letters? Are you sure it’s convincing?”

Ben looked away, and Molly could tell he was trying to hide the fact he was blushing.

Although they had been together a long time, Molly and Ben rarely shared details of their relationship with others. Because they were so private, people who knew them tended not to ask questions. It was easier than way.

“I read it.” Molly said. “It’s convincing enough.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, did you two ever…?”

Molly found herself grinning as well. It had been a long time since she had joked with her sister-in-law, and she had forgotten how much fun they used to have.

“I was never very good at them. But Ben…” Molly bit her lip.

“What?

She knew she had said too much. If she didn’t stop now, she knew she would burst out laughing.

“Well, you have to tell me now.” Anna pushed.

“He used to write them exclusively in Latin.”

Ben shot her a look, but he was smiling as well. He felt better to see that she was blushing as deeply as he was.

“They sounded better in Latin.” He tried to defend himself.

“Debatable.”

Ben had studied languages at university, and he became nearly fluent in Latin during his time there. He had been fond of the language ever since.

“You speak Latin?” Anna asked.

“No. It was his excuse so we could spend more time together. He would teach me Latin so I could read what he wrote.”

“In my defense,” Ben countered, “we were both very bored that summer.”

The summer of ’74, when they first became engaged.

“Besides,” he added. “I remember you became rather proficient in Latin.”

“I did. Don’t remember much of it now though.”

“ _Mendax_.”

It was Latin for _liar_.

She took another drink to stop herself from smiling wider. The truth was, that summer, she had become almost as fluent in Latin as Ben was. She hadn’t used the language in years, but she still remembered most of it. But Ben still knew, and she was glad they could have their own secrets.

* * *

**September 1781**

It took two weeks before the Continental Army heard word from their scouts, but one thing was certain: British forces were traveling North. And that’s when Washington made his move. Within two days, most of the army was packed, and they were preparing to march South.

“Where are we going?” Molly asked when they first began packing.

But Ben admitted that he didn’t know either. All he knew was that they were marching South.

No one knew their exact destination, and Ben said that’s what Washington wanted. Regardless, Molly still asked around camp, but everyone had a different answer.

They had been marching for months now. It was taking them far longer than anyone would’ve liked. But the army itself was responsible for their delay. Initially, the army marched along the Hudson River, around York City and into New Jersey. As they neared Philadelphia, where the Continental Congress was, another mutiny was staged.

The army was forced to set up a temporary encampment, and it took nearly a month for things to get sorted out. The soldiers who mutinied demanded pay _before_ they made they march further South. The bill Selah had been working on years ago still hadn’t been approved, but he was still in Congress, and he was still fighting or it to be enacted.

Molly still wasn’t sure how he managed it, but Washington went directly to Congress and managed to scrape together the funds. And they continued South once more. They were currently in northern Virginia. The army had set up a new temporary encampment in Alexandria, which was just outside of Washington’s personal estate, Mount Vernon. He had decided to delay their trip a little longer by visiting home. And they were still at _that_ encampment.

“Oi, what’s your man doing here?”

Molly looked up from her work. She had been doing laundry all morning with a few of the other women. She watched as Benjamin Tallmadge began to zigzag through the camp followers’ portion of camp. He kept stopping to speak with a woman here and there, and each time, they pointed him in a different direction.

“Looking for your missus?” the woman beside her called out.

Ben looked in their direction. He seemed startled, but he shook off the feeling and began to approach them.

“We need to talk. But not here.” He said to her under his breath.

She nodded.

“I’ll be right back.” She said, abandoning her washboard in the washbasin,

The two women she left behind made a few crude comments as they walked way, but she ignored them.

“Should I fetch Mary and Anna as well?”

He shook his head, but he didn’t speak again until they had wandered away from the tents and deeper into the woods. He kept them partially hidden behind a tree. He kept looking around to ensure they hadn’t been followed.

“Read this.” He said, producing a letter from his coat pocket.

She skimmed over it briefly, but her eyebrows quickly furrowed in confusion. The letter was written in French.

“I don’t—” she began, but he brushed her off.

“Keep reading.”

She didn’t speak French, but she did as he asked. Finally, towards the middle of the page, one name stood out. _Culper_.

“Oh, my God.” She breathed. “Is it really…?”

He nodded.

“But-but we still haven’t heard word from—”

He pointed to another part of the page, she looked and saw another familiar name: _Brewster_. She looked back up at him and laughed aloud.

“He did it.”

They were both smiling now.

“He did.”

“So, they’re with this man. With this,” she glanced at the signature at the end of the letter, “Lafayette?”

She recognized his name. He was one of the French high command. She remembered Hamilton talking fondly of him.

“Aye.” He tried to say more but she cut him off.

“Wait, what of John Champe? Is he with them as well?”

She scanned over the letter again, but she didn’t see his name anywhere.

“Caleb wrote to me separately. Said that Champe managed to find one of our regiments in the South. He said he’s going to stay there, unless he has orders to return.” Ben shook his head, wanting to change the subject. “But Caleb and Abe’s health are not the reason Lafayette wrote to the General. It seems Abe was doing much more than just pretending to be a redcoat.”

“What do you mean?”

“He managed to snag a copy of battle plans from Arnold’s desk.”

“What?”

“Washington has already decided to march into the trap. Make the redcoats think their plan will be successful. But what they _don’t_ know is that Washington and Rochambeau are splitting their forces, and they’re going to reconvene at the sight. And we’ll have French naval support as well. Lafayette will meet us there.”

Her mind was still whirling from all the information. From what he was saying, all of this was going to happen soon. The wheels were already in motion.

“Wait,” she stammered, “where is this going to happen?”

“Yorktown.”

She remembered seeing it on one of the maps in his tent.

“By the Chesapeake Bay?”

“Aye.”

She scrunched her nose in confusion, and half-laughed.

“Wait, didn't you say General Cornwallis is there?”

He nodded, and her expression fell. The thought came to her.

“Wait, but if the army meets them there, that means nearly all our forces will be in one spot.”

“Aye.”

That’s when she realized that, although he was composed, he was nervous. She asked slowly.

“And Washington still wants to proceed?”

He nodded. They both knew what that meant. If anything went wrong; it something went wrong, and Washington was forced to surrender… This battle could very well mean the end of the war. As for who the victor would be, that was still up in the air. But, they did know one thing: if they lost, they’d be hanged.

“When do we leave?”

* * *

**September 20, 1781**

**Yorktown, Virginia - Allied Camp**

The Continental Army had only set up a camp a short time ago. And the battle was imminent. Everyone was making preparations. There was a feeling of excitement and tension in camp. It was the kind of excitement that felt like nausea.

Molly had spent all morning pitching additional tents. Washington was still adamant about secrecy, so they were pitching far more than they needed to so they could hide their supplies. She was walking back to Mr. Sackett’s cart, where Anna and Mary were, when she recognized a shape in the distance.

It was Thomas. He was running between the rows of tents. She didn’t think much of it. Tomas was nearly six years old now. He often played chase with the other children in the camp followers’ section of camp. Molly stumbled slightly when she noticed a familiar figure chasing after Thomas. It wasn’t a child. It was a man.

“Abraham?”

She called out, but he didn’t pay her any attention. She ran after him.

As she got nearer, it was definitely him. She recognized his voice.

“Either you’re getting quick or I’m getting slow!” He laughed.

Thomas was running directly for Mr. Sackett’s cart as well. Abe caught up to him right as they got to the cart, and he scooped up his son.

“Come here, ah! Got you! Let me look at you!”

He laughed again and turned in a circle, and that’s when he saw Molly catch up with them. They looked at each other for a second. And then a wide grin broke out on Molly’s face.

“It is you!”

She rushed forward to hug him, slightly crushing Thomas between them as they did so.

“It’s been a long time.” Abe said.

He looked over her up and down for a moment. He really didn’t know what to say, and she didn’t either. It had been two years. But they didn’t have to say anything, because at that same time, Mary and Anna emerged from inside the cart.

“Abraham?” Mary asked in disbelief.

“Hi.”

Molly stepped back and Abe pulled Mary into a hug now, Thomas still in his arms. And then they were all talking at once.

Abe to Mary: “Are you all right?” And Mary nodded.

Anna: “You made it back in one piece.”

Abe: “Not for lack of trying.”

She was going to say more, but she quickly found her attention being diverted elsewhere.

“Howdy.”

Molly jumped at the sudden voice, feeling two arms snake around her waist. She turned slightly, and right behind her was Caleb Brewster. She turned around in his grip and threw her arms around him.

“Glad to see I was missed.” He chuckled.

She pulled away and hit him on the arm, but she was smiling too. That’s when she noticed Ben was there as well.

“How long have you been back?” she asked.

“Only just got here. Had to go find Tallboy though, and tell him the news.”

“I’ve been worried sick. Why did you tell me you were leaving?”

He shrugged, brushing off the question.

“How are you?” she asked, her tone becoming more serious.

He was having trouble keeping his smile at bay. “I shot him, Moll. I shot Simcoe.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but she was in shock. She couldn’t believe it.

“Is he—?”

“No,” Caleb admitted. “Not dead. But Woody says he was hurt pretty bad last time he saw him.”

If it was different, she knew the news would’ve annoyed her. She wished Simcoe was dead. But presently, she didn’t mind the news. If he was injured that badly, he would be out of the war until he could recover – if he could recover. She accepted that this was the only vindication they would likely get. And from Caleb’s expression, she knew he had done the same.

“So much for Samuel Culper, eh?” Ben asked.

He was having a different conversation with Anna, Mary, and Abe.

Abe shrugged. “Well, I never liked him anyway.”

“Well, whenever you’re ready.”

“Yeah, just give me a moment alone with my wife.”

“Of course.”

The small group of them walked away from the sutler cart.

“Ready for what?” Molly asked.

“Woody’s been keeping tabs on Arnold and the other bloodybacks’ troop numbers and supplies.” Caleb said.

“Aye,” Ben agreed. “Even with those battle plans he snagged, he knows more about the British defenses _here_ than anyone else.”

Later, Molly would learn that General Arnold had become quite fond of Abe. He used to allow him into more meetings than he should’ve. Arnold was no different than he had been in the Continental Army; he was always trying to make a profit.

Since Abe was a farmer and since Abe’s father did business with other British officers, Arnold often asked for Abe’s advice. Abe said that in southern Virginia, Arnold’s forced seized tons of gunpowder from the Continental Army. But then Arnold ordered it dumped into the sea, in order save room on his wagons and boats for goods he could resell.

“They won’t have enough gunpowder for a siege.” Ben told her later.

They didn’t say anything more, but they were thinking the same thing: They might come out of Yorktown victorious.

* * *

**October 14, 1781**

It had been eighteen days since Molly had seen anyone. She and Mary volunteered to help in the medical tents during the battle. They were constantly swamped by the sheer number of injured soldiers and casualties.

As far as she knew, the army had remained organized enough during the fighting, but back at camp, she had no idea what was happening. The only information was what she got from the injured soldiers. And all their stories were spotty, for most of them had been fighting at separate front lines of the same battle.

From what she had heard, she understood why the battle had been raging on for so long. The British took the town of Yorktown and were using that as their primary headquarters. All along the perimeter of the town, and along the battlefield, the British had created manmade redoubts, but pushing the earth into mounds to give them the advantage of the high ground. They had positions sharpened pieces of wood around the redoubts to mimic a phalanx and prevent the Patriots from rushing their position.

Molly heard that at nights, Washington had ordered some of the soldiers to begin constructing trenches that ran alongside the redoubts themselves. It was dark and foggy, and the British lacked the gunpowder, so they could work all night in little danger. By morning, the rebel soldiers would be positioned far closer to the redoubts, and their new position would delay the British artillery fire as they tried to reposition their cannons.

She heard word from the newest arrivals to the medical tent that redoubts nine and ten were set to be overtaken at any time. And then the army could push forward into Yorktown itself, and take the town, and what British soldiers were still there.

She could hear the sounds of gunfire – both from the battlefield and from the naval war where Lafayette was commanding – outside of the medical tent. It was hot and musty, and Molly’s hands and the front of her dress were stained with blood. As soon as a doctor finished assessing each patient, he would either begin a surgery right then and there, or he would simply remove a bullet and tell one of the volunteers to sew up the soldiers’ wounds.

She was sewing up a bullet wound on a soldier when she noticed a small figure pass by her. She did a doubletake.

“Thomas?”

She told the soldier she would be right back, and then she followed after her friends’ son. He wasn’t supposed to be here. A few of the camp followers volunteered to watch all the children during the battle. But it seems he wandered off.

The tent was crowded enough, and she slipped past doctors, and stepped over a few soldiers who was laying on the ground, as she followed after the boy. He didn’t seem fazed by any of this though. He stopped when he reached his mother on the other side of the tent. She was holding town a soldier while the doctor was amputating the man’s leg.

Molly watched Thomas tug on his mother’s skirts.

“Thomas, I told you to wait outside.” She scolded.

Molly was beside them now.

“I’ll take him outside.” She said, moving to pick him up.

“Papa’s here.”

“No, papa’s not.”

Thomas nodded and pointed across the tent. The blood drained from both of the women’s faces as they turned. Sure enough, there on one of the cots laid Abraham Woodhull.

“Abe? Abraham?!”

Mary grabbed Thomas and rushed over to be near him. Molly took over for her, holding the man down while the doctor finished the amputation. The man below her was groaning loudly. He was only partially sedated, so he was struggling against Molly’s grip.

Molly kept turning her head, to see what was happening. She saw that Abe was still conscious. Mary removed the bullet from the wound in his shoulder, and then, with shaky hands, she began to sew him up.

* * *

It was night. Molly was sat outside of the medical tent, draining a bottle of alcohol. She was still covered in a sheen of sweat, and she was exhausted. She had been out there for some time, listening to the distant gunfire. She was drinking because she was trying to stop her hands from trembling. But they wouldn’t. She hadn’t seen Ben or Caleb in days, and as far as she knew, either of them could’ve been injured like Abe. They could even be dead.

She glanced up when she realized that someone was sitting down beside her. It was Mary Woodhull. She wordlessly took the bottle from Molly and took a drink.

“How is he?”

“The doctor says he’ll be fine. Just a bit sore for a few weeks.”

She feigned a smile. The sat there for several minutes passing the bottle back and forth.

“I almost forgot, Anna wanted me to show you this.” Mary finally said, producing a folded newspaper from the pocket of her skirts. She handed her two sections of two different newspapers.

They hadn’t seen Anna in a few days as well. When he trenches were finally dug, she volunteered to be a pitcher girl and bring water to the men and cannons alike.

“Look here.”

Both newspapers were dated as being the same issue. The paper was dated nearly three weeks ago. Mary opened each paper so that they were on the same page; the page had a chart with flag symbols and meanings.

“Are these—?”

“Yes. The flag signals for the British ships. The ones the navy is using now.”

While it was not a flawless system, it was a clever way to get the information to officers in a timely manner.

The chart included flag colors and what their positioning meant when they were flown at certain times. Molly’s eyebrows furrowed together as she looked more closely at the charts. Although the newspapers were from the same issue, the charts were different. The organization of the flag colors and their meaning was scrambled.

 _That doesn’t make sense_. Molly told herself.

If each paper was slightly different, then this was not merely a printer’s error. It was intentionally done. Someone had purposely rearranged the chart’s position for each copy. But who could’ve… Molly stopped and looked at the newspaper heading. _The Royal Gazette_. These were papers from Rivington’s.

Molly felt a smile tugging on her lips. For the past nearly three weeks, she kept hearing news about the battle happening in the Chesapeake Bay. From what she’d heard, the British navy – part of the most powerful navy in the world – was losing more ships than the rebels could keep track of.

 _Robert did this. Culper Jr_. _He’s got the British navy running around in circles._

* * *

**October 23, 1781**

The British flew the white flag of surrender on Thursday October 18. It took a few days for both armies to reorganize, but when they did, they met on the battlefield one final time. The Continental Army was lined up on either side of the rows of redcoats marching to surrender. No one was excluded from witnessing the surrender. The entire camp was there; soldiers and camp followers alike.

As the British neared Washington’s position, the military drummers were playing _Rule Britannia!_ The crowd heard an accented voice call out an order.

“Play Yankee Doodle.”

It was General Lafayette who gave the order. The Continental drummers complied and began playing _Yankee Doodle_ on their drums and fifes. The British band ceased their playing almost instantly.

“Halt!”

The Continental band ceased their playing as well and the redcoats halted, as one of the men leading the march stepped forward with a sword in his hands. He turned towards where Washington was and held out the sword. But he was not offering it to Washington; as a sign of disrespect, he was offering it to the French high commander beside Washington. It didn’t matter though, because the British had already disrespected themselves.

“Is it in the habit of General Cornwallis not to attend an official surrender?” Washington asked.

“I’m afraid the general has fallen ill. He sends his deepest apologies.”

This man was not General Cornwallis. Cornwallis, one of the British high command, refused to face Washington for the surrender, and he had sent a soldier in his place. Washington knew just as well as everyone how cowardly an act that was. And Washington’s tone became harsher because of it.

“Nearly four years ago to this day, General Gates accepted General Burgoyne’s sword at Saratoga. Today, the American and French alliance is honored to accept yours.”

The soldier finally offered the sword to Washington. And then two more of the redcoats stepped forward to surrender for British flags. Once the offerings were accepted, the soldiers began marching once more. They were well aware they were now to be prisoners of war.

“Forward march!”

As the redcoats passed by Washington and the remaining lines of the Continental Army, each individual soldier surrendered their musket. They threw them into a pile that one grew as they continued their forward march.

Unbeknownst to everyone, the redcoats’ defeat here would begin the negotiations between the colonies and England. The war was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I've said before, the show turned into a speedrun during the last couple of episodes, and the timeline was a lot wonkier than the show let on. Because I can, the details I'm including about how long marches took/the mutiny during the march from VA to Yorktown/exact dates are all historically accurate. Also, I've been pleasantly surprised by how much I've managed to have Hamilton appear in these last couple of chapters.
> 
> On a different note, I was today years old when I learned that it’s “unfazed”, not “unphased"... As much as I would like to have this be grammatically flawless, it also be like that sometimes ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	41. 4x10

**1783**

**Bridgeport, Connecticut**

Ben was awoken by the sound of crying. He opened his eyes, but he wasn’t sure why he bothered. It was the middle of the night and the room was pitch black. It took him a moment to reorient himself. He always had to do so, or he would just assume he was back in his tent during the war. But he wasn’t there; he hadn’t been there in nearly two years.

He was lying on his stomach, half laying on top of Molly with his face pressed against her chest. He didn’t want to get up. He was warm and comfortable, but the crying persisted. And then he could feel her stirring beneath him, and that’s when he knew he couldn’t ignore it any longer.

Without a word, he rolled off her and pushed himself to his feet. As he stumbled across the room to where the crib was, he found himself forced to squint his eyes. Molly had collected the tinderbox from her side of the bed and lit a candle.

“What does he need?” Molly yawned. She was sat up in bed, trying to rub the sleep from her eyes.

But their baby didn’t need anything. As soon as Ben picked him up, he stopped crying.

“I don’t know.” Ben mumbled, bringing him over to their bed. “Maybe a bad dream.” He sat beside her again, and they both began examining him to make sure it was nothing.

Their son. It still felt strange for both of them to say that. Nathan Tallmadge was one year old. They had been talking about it for months now, but neither of them could decide who he looked more like.

He was named for his grandfather, Reverend Nathaniel Tallmadge, and for Nathaniel Sackett, and for Nathan Hale; Ben’s friend from university who was hanged by the British for espionage towards the beginning of the war.

“Oh well, I suppose he just got lonely.” Ben was the one yawning now.

They tiredly agreed and settled back into bed, with Nathan laying between them now. Molly didn’t blow out the candle. It wasn’t long before sleep took all three of them once more.

* * *

“More tea?”

Molly gladly pushed her teacup forward so her father-in-law could refill it. It was the next morning. Ben had already left for work. Reverend Nathaniel Tallmadge sat across from her at their small dining table, with his grandson in his arms.

After the Reverend was rescued from Setauket all those years ago, he had moved to rebel-controlled Connecticut, to live with old family friends. Shortly after the Battle of Yorktown, Ben and Molly had decided to move there as well, rather than return home to Setauket. It would take years to finally organize the evacuation of all the redcoats and loyalists who wished to leave the colonies. Besides, Molly had missed the Reverend’s company. She didn’t mind staying with him until Ben was finally discharged from the Continental Army.

It had been two years since General Cornwallis surrendered at the Battle of Yorktown. And it had been two years since peace negotiations began between the colonies and the British. But now it was 1783, and the articles of peace had been decided for months now, and the Treaty of Paris was to be signed at any time. And then the colonies could finally become what Selah and Congress were calling _the United States_. Molly still hadn’t decided if she liked the name; she still thought it might be too lengthy.

They were still living in Connecticut though. Now she and Ben had their own home, and the Reverend had been living with them for the past two years. So, when Ben was finally discharged, they decided it was easier to stay there. After all, now they had Nathan.

Their home in Bridgeport was small; only a little larger than Abe and Mary’s old farmhouse. In a lot of ways, Molly was grateful that her father-in-law agreed to live with them. It was strange for both Ben and Molly to return to mundane life. A lot had changed because of the war; they had also changed because of the war. But the Reverend hadn’t changed. He was still the same man they had always known, and that familiarity made things more comforting.

“When are you and Ben to head to Setauket?” the Reverend asked, lightly bouncing his grandson on his knee.

“We’re still waiting to hear back from Selah.”

They had been corresponding on the subject for quite some time. Selah was still in Philadelphia, working as a member of Congress. He wrote to them that Washington was interested in visiting Setauket and having a dinner with all the members of the Culper Ring. They were still trying to decide on a date, and now they were waiting to hear back.

Ben would visit the post office on his way home from work, and hopefully return with

After Ben graduated from university back in 1773, he was a teacher in Connecticut. But that was only for a short time. After his mother died, he returned to Setauket. But now that they were back in Connecticut, and now that Ben was officially discharged from the Continental Army, he had no problem finding another teaching position.

Molly was anxious to receive more word from her brother. Despite her own problems with Setauket, she was excited to visit again. In truth, she hadn’t seen their other friends since the war ended.

* * *

She remembered the end of the war well. No one knew that Yorktown would be the final battle in the revolution.

After the Battle of Yorktown, Washington and the Continental Army were marching North once more – this time with nearly 8,000 British prisoners in tow. Now that Cornwallis was defeated, the South was practically all under rebel control. Reinforcements were no longer needed, so now they could march back in the direction of New York. But first, they were stopping in Philadelphia so Washington could meet with Congress. Apparently, Congress had heard word from British diplomats; King George wanted to discuss war negotiations.

Word had already reached the city by time the army arrived. Crowds of people; men, women, and children; lines the streets as the army began its march through town. They were all celebrating the victory at Yorktown. Molly was riding beside Ben and Caleb. Since the battle, Washington had significantly reduced the restrictions placed on all the camp. His paranoia regarding other turncoats seemed to be no more.

Molly could tell that Ben was getting tired of her and Caleb. For the last several hours, she and Caleb had been passing the time by singing sea shanties. Molly had always found the songs amusing. When Caleb was first working as a sailor, he would come home again and teach Molly the new work songs they sang, so she knew far more than Ben would’ve liked. Ben found the songs amusing as well, but whenever Molly sang the especially crude parts, he always found himself blushing. She and Caleb were alternating between lines of one of the bawdier songs.

_I took her to a tavern_

_And treated her with wine_

_Little did I think that she was one_

_Of the rakish kind_

_I handled her, I dandled her_

_And much to my surprise_

_Turns out she was a fire ship_

_Rigged up in a disguise_

_And in the morning she was gone_

_My money was gone, too_

_My clothes she’d hocked, my watch she stole_

_My seabag bid adieu_

_But she left behind a souvenir_

_I’ll have you all to know_

_And in nine days, to my surprise_

_There was fire down below._

“Will you two please stop that?” Ben snapped.

They laughed but complied. After all, they finished singing all the lyrics. They rode for a few minutes in silence. But then Caleb couldn’t hold his tongue anyone. He was still in awe at the crowds they kept passing all throughout the city.

“Can you believe this shite?” Caleb said, “The whole bloody town turned out.” He paused, and then looked over at Ben, a wicked grin on his face. “The ladies will be lining up for a roll.”

Molly snorted in amusement, but Ben kept looking straight ahead, poker faced.

Caleb shrugged, “Course, I’m speaking about meself when I say that. After all, Major, we know your line will only consist of one.”

That’s when Ben leaned over and took a swing at Caleb. He purposely missed and burst into laughter as he watched Caleb push himself back and just about fall out of his saddle. Molly looked between the two of them, a smile tugging on her lips. It felt like old times.

Eventually, the army found a place right at the city limits to temporarily set up their tents once again. Caleb had wandered back into the city, and Molly found herself following behind Ben. They were going to Congress to see Selah. Washington was already in front of the building, surrounded by a small crowd when they arrived.

“Hail the glorious Washington!”

“Philadelphia and Congress welcome you, General.”

George Washington was a tall man, and Molly could see his head peeking out above the crowd. He was smiling, but he looked uncomfortable. Ben noticed too.

“The General has never liked when they call him that?” Ben whispered to her.

“Call him what?”

“ _His Excellency_ , or _glorious_ , that sort of stuff. He thinks it makes him sound too much like a king.”

“Well, because it does.” She deadpanned. She opened her mouth to say more, but then she heard a familiar voice behind them. They both turned, and there stood Selah Strong.

“Selah.” Ben greeted, giving him a hug.

“I heard Cornwallis pled illness rather than personally surrender his sword.” Selah moved to hug Molly next.

Ben nodded, “Well, 8,000 men captured, officers sent home in disgrace. I think I would’ve hid under my sickbed if I were him.”

“Oh, Moll, I have someone I want you to meet.” Selah took her hand and began to lead her away from the crowd. Ben followed.

He led them across the square to where a small cluster of men had gathered.

“What’s this, Strong?”

“Already causing trouble for the General?”

The men chuckled and kept their teasing going. These men were Selah’s fellow Congressmen. Selah ignored most of them and addressed the man nearest to him. He was middle-aged and had a serious aura. One would’ve thought he was a testy man, until he opened his mouth.

“Mr. Adams, this is my sister, Molly Strong. Molly, this is Mr. Samuel Adams. Congressman from Massachusetts.”

They shook hands briefly.

“Please, madam.” Mr. Adams bowed his head slightly.

“Mr. Adams was a maltster before the war.”

Molly perked up at that.

“Really?” she asked.

She was sure, to anyone else, this conversation would appear boring. But, since Selah had a tavern for so long, she and her brother had become interested in all aspects of tavern-owning and of alcohol brewing. Malt was the grain that was used to make ale. Maltster would produce the grain and sell the ingredient to a brewer, who would go through the fermentation process and make ale. The brewers worked for companies who, in turn, sold the finished ale to taverns.

“I must say, sir, out of all the Congressmen, I assumed my brother was the only one with a connection to taverns.”

Mr. Adams chuckled, “That’s what my wife said as well when I told her about my acquaintance with Mr. Strong.

They continued their pleasantries, but then Molly noticed that Ben and Selah were beginning to walk away.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I’m taking him to see Anna. I’ll be back.”

“Oh… aye.” She stammered.

She couldn’t remember the last time Anna had spoken of Selah. She and Anna had made peace long ago, but now Molly could feel a new sense of worry passing over her.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Strong, I’ll sacrifice my company until your return.” He chuckled.

They continued their pleasantries, but now Molly couldn’t get her mind off her brother and her sister-in-law. She honestly had no idea what would happen. But her worry seemed to be in vain. Because Anna and Selah made amends, and they had been living together as husband in wife in Philadelphia ever since.

* * *

They remembered when Washington stayed in the city nearly a month as the peace talks escalated, so the army stayed camped outside of the city.

Despite that though, Selah invited Molly and Ben to stay at his home until the army was to leave the city. Selah’s small estate was located in the city, near where Congress met. It was a good-sized home with plenty of furnishings and even a cook and a few servants.

Molly had asked before about Selah’s dealings in the city. He had gotten involved in investing and trade, and he even did the books for a few local taverns. Molly knew just from the state of his home that Selah had managed to acquire much more wealth than he let on. He seemed to be doing just as well (if not better) than he had been in Setauket before his arrest.

They remembered their time in the city well. Ben and Molly eloped in Philadelphia. It seemed fitting seeing as that had been their original plan all those years ago.

When the army was to finally leave, that’s when they agreed that Caleb and Molly would diverge from the army and Molly would go to Connecticut to reunite with Reverend Tallmadge. As the war was coming to a close, many of the soldiers were being discharged and sent home, and they were taking their families – the camp followers – with them.

It wasn’t necessarily safe to travel – there were still skirmishes all throughout the colonies as news of the war’s end spread slowly – but Molly trusted Caleb. His time as a smuggler meant that he knew what backroads to take and what areas were safer than other.

Molly had enjoyed her trip with Caleb. It would be one of the last trips for a long time. They rode through New Jersey, through New York, and into Connecticut. And the entire time, Caleb was hyper. He was back to his old self; now especially proud because he had managed to fine Abe, and shoot Simcoe, and now it looked like they could all go home soon.

“Well, Tallgirl.” He had started calling her that. “I expect this’ll be the last you see of your ol’ smuggler friend. Now that you’re a respectable lady; a married woman; it just wouldn’t be right for us to keep seeing each other like this.”

He kept teasing her, and she was glad for it. It felt like old times.

“I don’t need anymore of that talk from you,” she snapped, trying to stop herself from grinning, “Because if you don’t visit us in Connecticut, then I’ll have to resort to tracking you down and skinning you myself.”

He chuckled.

“Now that’s something I’d like to see! You know, I’m still surprised you never accepted my offer when I said we should run off and become privateers.”

She rolled her eyes. She hadn’t forgotten about that. When he first became a privateer, and when Ben decided he would sign up for the Continental Army, Caleb joked that the only way for Molly to fight to was be becoming a pirate. She still liked the idea of it, but she knew she wouldn’t have survived the war if she took him up on his offer.

They rode in silence for a while. But they were already in Connecticut, and in a few hours, she knew their trip would come to an end. And she still needed to tell him something; it had been gnawing at her for awhile now; but she didn’t know how she wanted to approach it. Finally, she spoke up.

“I need to tell you something.”

“Hm?”

“I’m pregnant.”

He turned completely in his saddle to look at her. She could see the surprise on his face as he eyed her stomach for a moment. He didn’t say anything for a long time.

“Well, I know for a fact it’s not mine.”

She snorted in amusement.

“ _I_ also know for a fact it’s not yours.” She chuckled.

“No, really, congratulations! But, ol’ Benny didn’t say anything.”

“He doesn’t know yet. I didn’t know till only recently.”

He swore, biting his lip.

“So I suppose I’m not done playing courier yet?” he joked. “I’ve got to deliver word to the Major after all.”

“Well, if you don’t mind.”

But then his tone became more serious and he sighed.

“What?”

“Well, not you two have put a lot of pressure on me. Shite, Moll. I haven’t even got a lady, and now I’m supposed to find one, _and_ I can have a kid as well. But you and Tallboy have already got the jump on me.”

She tilted her head in confusion.

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m serious.” But then he broke out into a wide grin. “There’s no way we’re not forcing our kids to be childhood friends as well.”

For the rest of their ride through the countryside, they talked incessantly about all the things they were going to do to ensure their kids wound up friends. They both even volunteered to take turns teaching them about all the ways they could cause mayhem on one of their properties.

After all, the two of them were experts on the subject.

* * *

But that was then, this is now; the year is now 1783; and a date was finally decided on when the group was to meet for their reunion.

Ben and Molly had been traveling all morning. After a couple hours of riding, they met up with the rest of what would be their party in Schuylerville, New York. Caleb, Selah, Anna, and Washington were waiting for them. Although the group had been corresponding regularly, most of them had not seen each other in person in well over a year; and some even longer. Their reunion was filled with the usual greetings and pleasantries, and handshakes and hugs.

“Don’t crush the little guy.” Caleb joked, trying to stop Molly from tightening their hug.

She reached up and grabbed him by the chin. He was cleanshaven and dressed in civilian clothes – not in his sailing clothes they had all gotten so used to seeing over the years. And she wasn’t used to seeing him cleanshaven, she ran her thumb over his chin, and jokingly tsked under her breath.

“Careful there, Brewster. You know, for a minute there, I almost mistook you for a gentleman and not a smuggler.”

“Careful yourself, Tallgirl.” He winked.

Molly quickly found herself being crowded by the others. Caleb was the only one who had met Nathan, and Anna and Selah were fawning over their nephew. Although Anna and Selah had their disagreements before, they had decided to remain married when the war ended.

“Oh, yes, there’s a Strong alright.” Selah chuckled.

“What are you talking about?” Anna teased. “If we’re going based on looks, he looks more like Benjamin.”

“No. I know what a Strong looks like, and this lad has Strong eyes.”

And then it was time to speak with Washington.

Molly had not personally spoken to Washington in years. Not since before the war was over. Ben was still fond of the man and corresponded with him often. But now that they were able to see each other in person again; to meet together, and not for a meeting related to the ring, Molly found herself remembering how they had always had a mutual understanding when working together.

Ben joined them in an instant.

“Sir,” he was having trouble containing his excitement, “I officially present my _wife_ , Mary Floyd Tallmadge. And our son, Nathan.”

She wasn’t sure why, but Ben enjoyed introducing her by her full Christian name. She supposed it did sound more official that way.

“Named for your friend, Mr. Hale?” Washington asked, looking down at the fussing child in Molly’s arms.

“Yes, sir.”

“Very fitting, Major.”

Nathan kept squirming, so Molly handed him off to Ben.

“Here, take him.” She said quietly. He would usually quiet down if they passed him back and forth a few times. Ben held him to his chest, and then he stepped aside to talk more with Caleb.

“It is nice to see you again, Madam.” Washington said.

“You as well sir. I hope you do not still consider me fallen out of favor.”

She smirked slightly, seeing the hesitant look cross onto Washington’s face.

“I’m kidding.” She smiled.

A beat.

“You are right though. I’m not sure why I never made amends with you before the war ended.”

“Think nothing of it. That was a long time ago.”

There was a brief moment of tension between them.

In fact, Washington could’ve made amends with Molly years ago. From the Battle of Yorktown to only six months ago, Ben had still been an officer in the Continental Army. He had half lived in New York, half lived in Connecticut, working with Washington to oversee the evacuation of the city by the British. It was much more complicated than simply having all the redcoats leave at once. It had been a meticulous process that had taken nearly two years.

He could’ve easily written a letter and had it delivered via Ben, or he could’ve even verbally told Ben to pass on a message. But he didn’t. Molly hadn’t thought much of her falling out in a long time. She had been upset about it at one point, but now she wondered, _Perhaps, he’s bad at making apologies to_. _After all, I never apologized for disobeying orders_. Luckily, Washington thought of something to change the subject.

“He is a handsome child.”

“Thank you.”

And with that comment, Molly knew she was forgiven, and she hoped Washington knew she held no bitter feelings towards him either.

“We’d better be heading on if we’re ever to reach home by sundown.” Caleb said.

They agreed and moved back to their carriages and horses. And they crossed into Long Island together.

* * *

**Setauket, Long Island**

“You alright?”

Ben turned to look at her. She was sat in one of the pews, cradling Nathan in her arms.

They were in the church; his father’s church that was commandeered and used as Major Hewlett’s headquarters and stables during the war. But now the redcoats had not occupied Setauket in over a year, and the building had been converted back into a church.

“Yes, I’m fine.”

She got to her feet and walked over to where he was still standing, towards the front of the church. Near where his father used to preach.

“Now that we know it’s in one piece again, maybe your father will agree to come see it.”

He smiled, “Maybe.”

They both already knew the answer though. Reverend Tallmadge had told them enough times that he had no desire to visit his old home. He still held resentment towards their neighbors for the way they had turned on him. They didn’t blame him. Those same neighbors had turned on them too.

“Come on, they’ll be waiting for us.”

They held hands as they went out of the church and began to walk down the hill and into town. The others were already in front of the former Strong Tavern. Washington was surrounded by the townspeople. Now that the war was over, many of them flocked to him.

“Pleasure to meet you.”

“It’s an honor.”

Molly rolled her eyes. Those same neighbors had been praying for Washington’s defeat years earlier.

“Liars.” She whispered.

Ben lightly elbowed her in the side. And then they walked closer to where Abe and Caleb were talking. Abe was wearing as apron over his clothes, with a rag in his hands.

Molly had written to Mary often over the past years. They had returned to Setauket, but they were financially struggling. When Mary became a camp follower and Abe a redcoat, they were forced to leave behind their home. They still had their home, but now they had no money to afford seed so they could grow crops. And no one in town was willing to lend them the money; they all knew Abe’s past luck growing cabbages.

So, Abe and Mary had gone to Mr. DeJong and they had been working at the tavern. Trying to save enough to afford seed.

“Come here you bastard.” Ben laughed stepped forward and pulled Abe into a hug.

“Welcome home.”

Abe moved to hug Molly next.

“And who’s this little guy?’ he laughed.

Abe and Mary hadn’t met Nathan either. Before anyone had a chance to respond, a familiar, shrill voice pierced through the air.

“Woodhull.” It was Maarten DeJong. He looked the same. “What are you doing? I said more ale.” He scolded.

He walked out of the tavern and towards them. And that’s when Molly saw Mary and Thomas on his heels.

“Mary!” Molly pushed passed everyone to see her friend.

They hugged and Mary began excitedly fussing over Nathan. And while she did so, Molly fussed over how big Thomas had gotten. He was eight years old now.

“We didn’t know you were coming.”

“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t write. We wanted it to be a surprise.”

They turned, hearing part of the conversation happening behind them.

“Maarten.” Selah greeted, with mock pleasantness.

“Selah Strong?” DeJong was on the defensive immediately. “This… no, as I said. This tavern was purchased lawfully.”

“Under the king’s law. Which is no more. I’ve come to negotiate the sale of Strong Manor with interested parties, as my wife and I are moving to Connecticut.”

They had talked about it on the ride to Setauket. Selah’s term in Congress was going to be up soon. He was going to run for reelection, but he and Anna had tired of living in the city. They decided they wanted to move to Connecticut, and they were considering living near Bridgeport.

As for Strong Manor, none of them had visited their family estate in years. After the attainder, it was commandeered by the military. But, since they won the war, Congress decided that they had the power to overrule all the previous attainders and other confiscations from the British.

“But I’ll give you the chance to buy my tavern at a very good price.” Selah added.

DeJong was going to say more, but that’s when he caught sight of Washington, who was approaching their group now. DeJong fumbled as he removed his hat and bowed his head.

“His Excellency.” He stammered. “Welcome to our humble town. I am Maarten DeJong. Please allow me to host your entourage at Whitehall.”

“Kiss ass.” Mary whispered, and the comment made Molly snort in amusement.

“Thank you, Mr. DeJong.” Washington replied. He eyed Abe for a moment.

Although Abe had been a part of the ring longer than most of them, Abe had never met Washington before.

Washington continued, “I should think the simple hearth of this tavern will do. I wonder If my company might dine in private this night?”

“Of course! Woodhull, make up the table.”

Molly cringed upon hearing that. Although she had not disliked her work at the tavern, it felt wrong to see Abe and Mary stuck working there. It felt wrong to see Mary with an apron wrapped around her skirts; the same apron Molly used to wear.

Washington stopped DeJong before he could say more.

“Mr. Woodhull is to be the man of honor.”

* * *

It was late into the evening. They had found a box to use as a makeshift crib for Nathan, and he was sleeping in the other room, with Thomas playing near him; keeping an eye on things. And the rest of the party was sat around a large table in the main tavern hall. Washington and Abe each at the heads of the table, and Ben, Caleb, Anna, Selah, Mary, and Molly on the edges.

Caleb was in the middle of a story; one he had purposely been waiting to tell everyone.

“…So, so, here’s the thing. Like I met her, and we’d both had too much to drink, but then she says she thinks she can handle more than I can.”

They were all quietly chuckling at the story.

“…And I says, no, I don’t believe you. So we start drinking. And I’m amazed because, my God, that woman can handle her ale. So there I am, just about soused because she drank me under the table like. And that’s how I learned her name. Her name is Anne Lewis. And, uh, she is…” Caleb hesitated to say more.

But Ben picked up for him, “She is about to be _Anne Brewster_.”

The volume in the room rose as they all clamored to ask more. Molly and Ben were the only two Caleb had told about his engagement. They hadn’t met her yet, but they were excited to. Caleb said she was a barmaid in New York, and when he was there towards the end of his enlistment, they met and quickly formed an acquaintance. Apparently, her brother was a sailor as well.

“Really?”

“No!”

“Yes yes! But I was gonna say a fine woman.” Caleb chuckled. “So I have _my_ Annie,” he looked at Anna, “and you, Benny boy, have _your_ Mary.”

Molly and Mary exchanged a glance as the table began to quiet down once more.

“Congratulations Lieutenant.” Mary said. “If you’ll excuse me, _this_ Mary needs to get her son to bed.”

Everyone began to talk over themselves again.

“Mary!”

“No, come on.”

“No, Mary, it’s too early for that.”

But finally they all complied, and they stood with Mary as she moved to leave the table.

“It was an honor to meet you, Madam.” Washington said.

Mary bowed her head slightly, “The honor was mine, General.”

They remained standing after she had left the room.

“Another toast is in order.” Washington said.

Caleb reached for the bottle in the center of the table and refilled his and Molly’s glasses. They both had too much to drink, but neither had any intention of slowing down. They all lifted their glasses.

“To the signal gallantry of an emissary unsung, but not uncelebrated.”

Before they could drink, they heard Abe clear his throat.

“Your Excellency, uh,” he began, “although I’m appreciative to the recognition, to be sure, all I truly require is the recompense. Surely Major Tallmadge has made you aware of my situation.”

Molly drained her glass in one gulp. She reached for the bottle for a refill.

Ben said he and Abe had had this conversation many times. Apparently, shortly after returning home and discovering that no one would give him a loan, Abe traveled to New York and found Ben. Throughout the duration of the war, he had saved all his records, receipts, invoices to account for his expenses – mainly things like travel expenses from all his trips into the city. Abe said that his farm had suffered because of his service – and that was true - and he’d like some form of compensation. He thought he was owed at least that much.

But, then, there was nothing Ben or Washington could do. There were still financial problems happening in Congress, and those issues had been put on hold so that they could begin to negotiate a peace treaty with England. It was bad timing all around.

Ben had already asked Molly not to bring it up to the others, but the truth was, they were struggling financially as well. Though Ben had been an officer in the Continental Army for over seven years, he hadn’t been fully compensated for his services either. He agreed to take a cut in pay, because Congress didn’t have enough money to issue him the full amount.

Molly understood where Abe was coming from. She was also annoyed by the politics involved with what was owed to _them_ as well.

“Abe,” Ben lowered his voice, “the details of this matter are highly confidential.”

“Only to me.” Selah looked around the table for a second. “I will excuse myself so that you may discuss your business.”

He made his way out of the room, and the rest of them took a seat once more.

“I propose a toast.” Anna was trying to diffuse the tension in the room. “To those members not present by whose service and sacrifice we prevailed.” She paused before offering the first name. “Robert Townsend.”

“Aye.”

“Aye”

“Hear, hear.”

* * *

Molly hadn’t seen Robert since the end of the war. Shortly after arriving in Connecticut, Caleb had left to return to the rest of the army. One day, Molly hired a sailor to ferry her across the Sound, to Oyster Bay.

They hadn’t received intelligence from Robert since the victory at Yorktown. She was uncertain if he was still in the city; seeing as it was quickly going to be under Patriot control. So she thought she would visit his father’s home to inquire about him.

When she arrived at Samuel Townsend’s house though, she didn’t expect to see the barn rebuilt – the same barn Caleb had burnt down all those years ago. And she didn’t expect to see Robert Townsend working in the yard near the barn.

“Robert?”

He turned. He was dressed much more casually than she’d ever seen. His black coat was gone, and his shirt hung was sloppily tucked into his trousers, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. His hair was also tied back much looser than normal. It was simply held with a ribbon, not braided.

“Ms. Strong?”

He brushed the dirt off his hands as they neared each other.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” He said. “Did you write to my father?”

“No, I didn’t.”

She opened her mouth to say more, but no words came out. She wasn’t sure where to start. After all, the last time they had personally corresponded was after she and Caleb had been tortured by Simcoe.

“We saw _the Gazette_.” She decided to say.

He smirked, “Hm. Yes, _that_. Well, I was glad to hear I could’ve been some help.”

He quietly chuckled.

“You know, for a moment, I thought perhaps Mr. Woodhull sent you.”

Her eyebrows furrowed together.

“Why would Abe send for me?’

“He stopped by recently. Wanted to know my thoughts on compensation.”

“Well, I’m sure the General intends to provide you some form of compensation.” She stammered. Finances weren’t her forte. She knew how economics worked, but at the same time, it rarely made sense to her.

“No, even if he offers, I have already decided I will refuse to accept.”

“Robert—”

“No, I’m serious. I didn’t volunteer to help for money. If my pockets are to be emptied because of my contributions, then I am glad for it. I do not want recognition.”

Molly felt a smirk tugging on her lips. Robert was a Quaker through and through.

“I agree.” She admitted after a moment.

And she meant it. She had thought about that for a long time; practically since she first became a part of the ring. She never did this for money; she did it for Ben, for their future life in the colonies.

A beat.

“What are you doing back here anyway? What happened to your position at the Coffeehouse?”

He looked troubled, and it took him a long time before he finally responded.

“Did you know about Rivington?” he asked.

“Know what?”

Robert scoffed and looked away for a moment. She was taken aback by his reaction. Did she not know something?

“What happened to Rivington?”

“Nothing’s happened to him, I…” he stopped himself. “When I snuck down to the cellar, to make up all those false naval charts, Rivington caught me.”

“Oh, my God. And you…?”

She didn’t want to say it, but he understood what she meant. She meant to ask if Robert had killed the man.

“Oh, thank God no.” Robert chuckled, glad it hadn’t come to that. “No, he realized what I was doing. And that’s when he told me he knew what I had been doing for the past years…” he paused. “Yes, he knew about you too.”

She blinked in surprise, not quite comprehending. Rivington had known about them all along? That they were spies.

“But you got away?”

“He let me go.”

“Rivington?” she scoffed, “James Rivington, one of New York’s most prominent loyalists _let you go_?”

He nodded.

“You saw the paper, didn’t you? He even published the false charts. Didn’t alert anyone.”

“Why would he do that?”

Robert shrugged, “He didn’t say specifics, all he said was to finish my work and to leave the city at first light.”

Molly began chewing on her lip. If Rivington willingly published those charts, then he knew what the consequences could be. She knew for a fact that, if Anna and Mary had noticed the discrepancy in the charts, that meant that the British high command had noticed it as well. News of the false charts would be traced back to Rivington’s. If he let Robert go, then Rivington would be blamed for the error. _Rivington_ would be accused of sabotage rather than Robert.

“Why do you think he did it?” she finally asked.

“Well, all I know it that the two of us were not the only people in the city passing ourselves off as loyalists.”

She didn’t know what to say. She had always found herself surprised throughout the duration of the war. If Rivington had been a secret Patriot all along, then that meant he had been using his influence to protect Robert and Molly for most of the time he knew them.

“I apologize. Come inside.”

Molly smirked, “Oh, I assumed I wasn’t allowed inside? After what happened last time.”

He scoffed in amusement, “My father may have his own objections, but please, this time you actually will be visiting as my guest.”

He offered her his arm, and she gladly accepted it. And they began to walk towards the main house, glad they could be reacquainted once more.

* * *

Molly and Robert wrote to one another weekly. She told him about this dinner, but he declined the invitation. He preferred that his involvement to become a story lost to time.

Anna continued, “Abigail and Cicero.”

As far as she knew, none of them had received word from Abigail or Cicero in years. She assumed they had fled to Canada.

“And Akinbode.” Molly added.

A part of her still felt regretful for how they ended their last encounter. She owed her life to Akinbode. But she had never gotten a chance to repay him; she didn’t see him again after that day at the millhouse. She hoped he had managed to find Abigail in the city, and that he had fled with them to Canada.

“Aye.”

“Aye.”

“Hear, hear.”

Ben spoke up then.

“And Nathaniel Sackett.”

“Aye.”

“Hear, hear.”

Anna said one final name.

“And Judge Woodhull.”

They all glanced at Abe, and they could tell he was grateful they had included his father in their toasts. Although the man was not fond of most of them seated there; he had been willing to risk his life to save Caleb. And they would never forget that.

“They gave us their service selflessly.” Washington agreed.

“You know,” Abe added, “none of us did this for the money. But my farm has suffered for my absence and I’m afraid I don’t qualify for veteran’s pay, so…”

“I have recently appealed to our Congress to establish a credible fund to pay for secret services.”

“With all due respect, I can’t wait for Congress. I have to plant now! Or I lose the season.”

A beat.

“May I have a word in private with Mr. Woodhull?”

“Certainly, sir.”

* * *

The rest of them joined Selah in the adjoining room. They split off into small group, talking quietly amongst themselves. Selah and Anna began to ask Caleb about his engagement. Ben and Molly went to where Nathan was sleeping in his makeshift crib. He was sound asleep, so they didn’t disturb him.

“It’s so foolish.” Molly was slurring slightly. She was tipsy from all the ale. “That for all that we did during the war, and now we have to struggle because of it. Your father, both of us, we had _nothing_ because of the war.”

He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer. She could feel his lips on the top of her head.

“You know, I was talking with Selah earlier. He said he’s not the only representative whose term is ending.”

“Aye, and then there will be new men; younger men. There are already plenty of members who didn’t serve in the war. And now they’ll be left to make all our decisions for us.”

A beat.

“Selah suggested I should run.”

“ _You_? A _Congressman_?”

She looked up at him, and she knew he was serious. And suddenly she forgot all her anger; she always did when she was with him. She moved her hand to the back of his neck and pulled him down so that their lips met in a kiss. And while they did so, her thoughts were filled with the fact that they were home again, this time finally married and they had a child, and the war was over, and neither of them had any idea what the future would bring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sea shanty Molly and Caleb sing is the same one Caleb sings in 4x02 right before he's captured.
> 
> Rivington was actually a member of the Culper Ring. His name is even directly referenced in the Codebook. I have no idea why the show's creator's omitted/altered this fact.
> 
> Historically, Ben's military career was from 1776 to 1783. When the army disbanded, he was actually given the rank of Lieutenant Colonel (for higher veteran benefits). After that, he returned to his home in Connecticut (where he was teaching before the war). In the 1790s, he was working as a postmaster. From 1801 to 1817, he was involved in politics, and during this time he became a member of Congress. In the 1810s to 1820s, he became involved in a couple organizations to support Revolutionary War veterans. He apparently became a sort of businessman in his later life. He died a few weeks after his 81st birthday in 1835.
> 
> The historical Mary Floyd Tallmadge could not be more different than Molly. Historically, her father was an officer in the Continental Army -- that was how/why she and Ben originally met. Mary and Ben were married in 1784. They had 7 kids. (None of their kids were named Nathan.) She published a recipe book at the turn of the century, and you can still find some of her recipes online. She died in 1805. Ben did remarry -- to Maria Hallett.
> 
> As we all know, historians still don’t know who Agent 355 was. There are a lot of theories. Some believe it was Anna Strong – who was Abraham’s neighbor. She did supposedly signal for Caleb using black petticoats; she would also travel with Abe into the city and pose as his wife from time to time. Others believe 355 was a wealthy woman living in York City during the war. Possibly the daughter of a loyalist family. She would’ve been invited to officers’ parties/other events and had more chances to eavesdrop on the British high command. A woman like this may have befriended Robert Townsend and would pass along information to him. 355 may have been one/some of Abe or Robert’s sisters. Abe excuse for visiting the city so often was so that he could visit his sister’s family. The same applies to Robert; he had sisters living on Long Island and in York City. Or 355 might’ve been a string of multiple women who included random tips to Abe or Robert throughout the duration of the war. There’s even one conspiracy theory that Peggy Shippen may have been 355. But this is one of the weakest theories. But historians just don’t know.
> 
> Lastly, there is one final saucy scene in "Things We Lost in the Fire". I hope you enjoy :)


	42. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seeing as the series ended with Abe's letter to Thomas, it seemed fitting to end this fic in the same way. This is taken pretty much verbatim from the show. I only added like 1 paragraph. You’ll know which one it is.

“Dear Thomas,

As I look back on that day some 30 years ago, when our first crop made it to harvest, I remember thinking how you had your whole life in front of you. Later, you say you wish you could fight for your country just like your father did, but… I never told you everything I did during the war. Tonight, I want to tell you the truth.

The revolution never ends. It was hallowed as a triumph of the righteous over the wicked. But the battle lines were not clearly drawn. The real war, the one between good and evil, was fought within ourselves. How else to explain that Robert Rogers, a man who tried to kill me, taught me the trick that saved our crop and thus our family? Or that Edmund Hewlett, a man I tried to kill, became a great man of science? He once told me the universe was a cold place where love had no purpose. Yet he became an astronomer of renown and married the sister of Sir William Herschel, whose writings on the stars you admire so much.

I grappled with these contradictions, though they were far from the most troubling. In Upper Canada, the hated Colonel Simcoe, now Governor Simcoe, abolished slavery in his province. The man who took your grandfather from us, who oppressed so many colonists, gave freedom to generations of others.

Just before the British left New York, General Washington told Governor Carleton that he intended to take possession of all negroes and other property of the inhabitants of the southern states. He asked for the boats to be turned around. The general didn’t know his own Agent 355 was aboard one of them. We only learned this years later, after our ring received a letter written in code and sent from Nova Scotia.

The greatest war is the one fought within ourselves. Washington wished to return to his farm, yet was called back to serve his country as the only man who could unite our turbulent states. It may be that the price of our new union was to overlook out greatest divide. Or it may be that the bill will come due with a vengeance.

These contradictions tortured me for years. And yet not every path turns unexpectedly. Some lead right where they were pointing. Your Uncle Brewster remained water bound as Captain of the Active, guarding our coasts. A smuggler turned lawman. And Congressman Tallmadge, well, you know I never stop talking about him. Ben was always the most well-known patriot of our ring and a true believer in the cause. And yet, when Congress sought to reward the men that would capture John Andre, Tallmadge rose to denounce them as criminals and scoundrels, claiming that when they removed Andre’s boots, it was to search for plunder and not to detect treason. Tallmadge broke out vow of silence this one time only to defend his enemy in the war. For if we spies don’t stand for one another, who will?

I have always believed that our ring has always been the best kept secret of the war. I am certain, if not for that connection, many of us who were members of it would’ve fallen out of contact decades ago. When we agreed to become members of the ring, we were not seeking recognition. As you know, there is no pride in being a spy. That is why whenever one is caught, he is hanged for his crimes; he is hanged for his cowardice. That is the reason for our silence. I always liked the way your Aunt Molly put it. When I asked her about it once, she said “I’ll let my stories be whispered when I’m gone”. So, I hope that one day, maybe, that may be the case for all of us who were a part of that ring.

Of course, the British held Andre as a hero and quickly forgot about Benedict Arnold. None of his future endeavors came to fruition, and he died in his bed in 1801. His wife, long rumored to be Andre’s lover, returned to her family in Philadelphia. She passed in 1804. And among her personal things, they discovered a lock of Andre’s hair, given to her when she was young and in love.

Love is something easy to conceal but hard to kill. Though I love your mother, I also never stopped loving a woman named Anna Strong. Even though someone is gone, your love for them lives on. I will always love you. You fell to a British musket at the Battle of Bladensburg, August 24th, 1814.

The revolution never ends. You always wanted to fight for your country, just like your father. But I never told you everything I did during the war. Perhaps, someday, somehow, you’ll get this letter. But if not… I’ll tell you myself when I see you. And you can share with me all you’ve learned… from Heaven.

All my love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To start things off, some thank yous are in order:
> 
> Season 4 was unofficially sponsored by La Croix. I literally drank 30+ cans as I wrote all of Season 4.
> 
> Also I would like to give you a big thank you as well. Thank you so much for reading this! This is the first piece of writing I have ever finished. Thank you everyone for all the kinds words and encouragement! I really appreciate it.
> 
> Best wishes,  
> Nicole


	43. Chapter 43




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